Holding On To You
by Ramalama
Summary: Four years after Katniss Everdeen is named the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games she is still making a splash in the Capitol as the District Twelve Mentor. What her adoring fans don't know is just how broken their 'it' girl really is. Very light lemon
1. Chapter 1

The cannon sounds and I allow the knife to fall from my hand. He is dead, it's not as if he is going to use it against me. I look down at my hands, they are covered in his blood, and while my eyes fall on the gore stained grass I cannot not force myself to look at his body. He had killed my friend, he had killed so many, I suppose there are parts of me that should have been cheering along with the thousands of spectators in the Capitol, but there is nothing within me, nothing but silence. I turn away from Cato's body, away from the jagged red smile I had painted on his throat, and stand taller. I point my face to the sky as the trumpets sound, the fanfare begins, and the voice of Seneca Crane rang through the Arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the winner of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games; Katniss Everdeen, the Victor of District Twelve, _The Girl on Fire_!"

_Four Years Later_

"Katniss, dear, you look positively ravishing!" Caesar Flickerman says with a flourish as I walk onto the stage, waving candidly at his studio audience. It has been four years since I won the Hunger Games and the Capitol's reaction to me has hardly changed. Pure frenzy. I, on the other hand, have finally learned what it was that came so naturally to Peeta, the bravado that saved me in the arena. Capitol exclusives say that I have simply bloomed, that the Games helped me come into the charismatic young woman I am now, but they could not be farther from the truth.

I am no longer in the arena, but I have come to realize that the Games are all around me. Every move I make is watched, every smile, every wave, every word written down and categorized and filed to be looked at when necessary. Just as in the arena I have two choices; I play, or I die, and oh have I learned to play. "Thank you Caesar." I say with a smile as he stands and take my hand, his puffy lips pressing against my knuckles. "And I must say, you are as dashing as ever. You Ol' Devil!" I wink at the audience, and they laugh and clap. So different from the sullen girl I had been before the games, so… _Capitol, _and the more they love me the more I hate myself.

"Please, have a seat." Caesar says as he motions to a plush arm chair behind me, and I fold myself into it, doing my best not to ruffle the sleek red number Cinna has squeezed me into. The side of my face still stings from the dermal piercings Flavius demanded I get inserted on the top of my right cheekbones, three tiny crystals that glimmer and shine under the stage lights. It was done a week ago and it is already all the rage amongst Capitol men and women. "First," He says as he leans forward. "Let me see those _gorgeous_ dermals!" He says and I laugh, craning my neck to give him, and the viewers, a good look at the diamonds glittering on my cheek. "Positively beautiful! Wouldn't you agree?" He asks the crowed, and they all erupt in applause.

"Oh stop it!" I giggle, but they continue, and I pretend to enjoy their praise. With a wave of his hand Caesar silences the crowed and turns to look at me, his eyes full of excitement.

"So, Katniss, tell us about the District Twelve tributes this year!" He asks in a hushed, excited voice, and I sit back in my chair, crossing my legs to give the Capitol a good peak of my long slender calf through the slit in the dress.

"Caesar, you know better than that." I smirk as I put the glass down. "You know I couldn't give anything away this early in the game!" I chide, and he sighs dramatically.

"Not even the tiniest detail?" I let out a defeated breathe and lean closer to him as if I'm about to whisper a secret.

"Well, I will tell you can expect the unexpected from this pair." I say with a wink, and the and the audience begs for more, but I sit back, shaking my head.

What was there to expect? Alice was hardly more than thirteen and so like Prim it hurt me to look at her. She was so frail, so fragile, she would be gone within the first ten minutes of the game. Darren, on the other hand, was a strapping eighteen-year-old, who had already begun working in the mines. His nineteenth birthday is in a week, he was so _close_. The boy was as strong as an ox, but just about as smart as one. He would make it to the final seven on sheer strength alone, but he didn't have the cunning to win. Maybe if the stars align and he gets lucky, and some rich sponsor buys him a pick axe, he can win. I have already chosen him. I can only get one of them out of there alive, if one. If I can bring Darren home safe that is better than nothing. I've failed to do so in the past 3 years.

He does have two things in his favor, however. He is handsome and he has a little one on the way back in the district. People will sympathize with him, so long as he does everything I say. He has so far, but he kind of seems incapable of doing anything other than what he is told to.

Caesar grins and touches his face. "Katniss, do you mind if we get a little personal?" He asks, and I place my hand over my heart.

"Caesar! I am surprised at you! We have all been friends for over four years now! Of course you can!" I state with a smile and a goodhearted roll of the eyes, allowing the Capitol to believe I count them amongst my friends.

"The biggest question on the street, Katniss, is when?" He asks, and I already know the answer before I ask.

"Oh don't talk in riddles!" I giggle. "When what?"

"When will you find a special someone, Katniss!" He says as if it is the most obvious question in the world, and I feel my heart constrict in my chest. I have been waiting for this question for years, and I'm ready for it.

"Oh Caesar." I say, folding my hands in my lap as I look at him. "Peeta…" I say softly, and suddenly the whole audience it pulling out handkerchiefs. If there was ever someone they loved more than me it was him.

"It's been years, Katniss." Caesar murmurs as he reachs over, his face full of concern. He takes my hand and gives it a firm squeeze. "Don't you think it's time to move on? Peeta would have wanted you to be happy, and Lord knows every man in the Capitol, in all of _Panem_, would love to be the one to do that. Myself included." He adds, and the audience laughs through their tears. He hands me a tissue and I dab my eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"I suppose you're right." I crumple the tissue in my hand and the audience lets out a soft sigh. "It's what Peeta would want." I say just as the buzzer goes off. The audience groans.

"Well, I suppose that's all the time we have for Katniss Everdeen." He says as he stands, motioning me up with him. I stand and give the audience the bravest smile I can muster, and they all clap and cry and wish me luck. "Please do convey my deepest wishes of good luck to your Tributes." He says, and I let out a short laugh.

"Luck? The last thing Alice and Darren needs is luck." They need a fucking Miracle.

"Katniss Everdeen, everybody." Caesar says as he presents me to the Capitol. "The girl _still_ on fire." He says and leans forwards to kiss both my cheeks before I turn and walk off the stage and right into Cinna's arms. Hurriedly he pulls me into my dressing room and begins pulling at different parts of me, removing my hair pins, and false eyelashes, and the dress I can hardly breathe in. He hands me a robe that I wrap around myself, and I hardly have time to cover up before he engulfs me in his arms once more.

"That was wrong of him." Cinna whispers softly. "He should have steered the conversation away from your love life-"

"He's been doing that for years, Cinna." I cry into his shoulder. "He couldn't do it forever." Peeta's face flashes in my mind, and my heart constricts.

_If I die, I want to still be me._

What would you think of me now, Peeta? I've become the Capitol puppet you died to avoid becoming. Cinna takes my face between his hands and wipes my tears away with his thumbs. Sometimes I feel like Cinna is my only friend in the world. "C'mon, let's get you back to the Training Center." He says as he walks over to the wall, pulling a long trench coat from a peg on the wall, and wraps it around me, buttoning it with quick deft fingers and tying it around my waist. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and I wrap mine around his waist as we leave the building into the flashing of the cameras outside the door. They all want to capture a piece of me, the Capitol sweetheart, the most eligible Bachelorette in all of Panem! _The Girl On Fire! _Cinna shields me as best as he can, but I'm sure a few of them catch photos of my tears.

As if it matters, it will only stoke the flame. _The Fearless Mentor of District Twelve still heartbroken at the loss of beau, Peeta Mellark, fellow Tribute in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games._ They will love that one. I should write it myself! Cinna tucks me into a long limo and slides in beside me. As soon as we are separated from the world by the thick black windows I wrap my arms around him one more and sob into his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

The way they look at me nearly breaks me. Alice has the light blue eyes of the merchant class while Darren's are as cold as the Seam. They're waiting for me to say something. After all, today is their first day of training. "Darren…" I begin softly. "There is no point in trying to hide how strong you are, everyone who sees you will notice that." I think any other guy on the planet would have given me at least a proud grin, but Darren just nods, the perfect little soldier. "Show off, you can intimidate the others." He nods once more and turns away, walking towards Effie. While it was always Effie's desire to move up to a 'better' district the rules changed with Peeta and I. Twelve is the desirable district, if for no other reason than the chance to work with me.

"What about me, Katniss?" Alice asks softly. "I'm not strong, or fast, or anything!" I can tell she is on the verge of tears, and I resist the urge to hug her, to pet down her light brown hair and tell her everything will be alright.

"No," I whisper. "But you're small." I mutter. "I once knew a girl who made it all the way to the final ten on being small alone. They can't kill you if they can't catch you." She nods her head, but there are already tears streaming down her face. "I want _you_ at every station you can get to." I whisper. "Learn everything you can. There are so many things down there you are bound to find something you're good at." Alice nods at me, and I can see her body is shaking with the sobs she holding in. "Go on." I command, and she turns and walks towards Effie.

Effie looks between Alice and I, and I know she is thinking the same thing I am. This fragile, sweet girl will not survive the Hunger Games. As soon as they are both gone I return to my room, only to find Cinna already standing there. I groan and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. "It's that time already?" I ask, and he nods solemnly. Every year while the Tributes are in training there are multiple 'Banquets' held in their honor. I will be attending as many of them as I can, trying to schmooze as many rich patrons into sponsoring Alice and Darren as I can. Sometimes, when a rich citizen is all too willing, I wonder if they are supporting my Tributes or me.

"Sorry, Katniss." He says gently as he leads me over to the Vanity in my room, seating me gently before he gets to work on my hair. As always I close my eyes as he begins to work, his hands are so skilled and gentle I find myself falling asleep rather quickly. The last time I had a full night's sleep was back in the Victor's Village, I never sleep well in the capitol. I feel his hands in my hair, his brushes on my cheeks and eyelids, and for a moment he even stops and rubs my tense shoulders. I try to lean back against him but he backs away. "Ah ah ah, Katniss." He says fondly. "You will not destroy my Master piece." At that I open my eyes, taking slightly aback by the person in the mirror before me.

I have seen Cinna do wonders with makeup before, but as I am now older he has gotten more creative. It is no longer a question of making me look beautiful, he now focuses on making me look _tempting._ With dark smoky eyes and pouty red lips I turn to look at him. My hair moves freely with me, a water fall of luscious curls. Some hair has been pulled away from my temples and twisted into elegant shapes at the back of my head. Once again Cinna has succeeded in making me everything the Capitol wants me to be. "How much will I hate the dress?" I ask him, and at this he actually smiles.

"Well, my love, it's not a question of _you_ liking it." He says as he touches my chin, turning my face side to side to inspect his work. "It's how the _Capitol _will like it." He takes my hand and leads me towards the garment bag lying across my bed. He unzips it slowly, almost dramatically. My eyes fall on black silk. "In you go." He says as he hands it to me and turns around, and I find the sentiment almost laughable. There is not a single part of me he hasn't seen a million times before. Still, I remove the clothes I had been wearing and pull on the long, slinky, backless dress. As the dress last night this dress also has a slit. Where the other's ended just above my knee, however, this one rides all the way up to the top of my thigh.

Without warning Cinna turns back around, producing a pair of strappy heels and red shimmering jewelry. I allow him to flit around me, fastening and clipping the jewels in their appropriate places, and when he is finished he steps back and gives me a final once over. "You really are a sight." He sighs appreciatively, and I laugh.

"A silly one, perhaps." I grunt and he steps forward, his hands resting on my shoulders.

"Katniss Everdeen." He says in a scolding voice. His hands travel down my arms until he is holding my hands. I know my skin must now be pocketed with gooseflesh. "I would _never_ allow you to look silly." He whispers as he leans forward and kissed me cheek gently, and I feel my skin grow hot.

"Of course not." I say shakily. "I do that no my own." At this he laughs and shakes his head.

"You really _don't_ know the effect you have on people." He quotes Peeta, and I feel my heart constrict. "C'mon let's get you to the Banquet." He says as he holds out his elbow to me.

"Who's going to be my escort to this one?" Cinna's smirk makes me very _very _nervous.

"Oh you just wait and see."

The walk through our quarters in the training center is a short one, and as we pass the dining room I catch a glimpse of the red haired Avox girl I believe Snow had placed here just for me back when I was a Tribute. Thankfully she doesn't turn to look at me, every time our eyes meet I find myself back in the forest with Gale, watching her brother being speared as she's lifted up in a net. I still have nightmares about it, I have a very extensive list of nightmares as of late, and each year as I watch my tributes die I gain two more.

The elevator ride which had once been so exciting to me now seems dull and monotonous. Every time I go up and down with my tributes I see the joy in their eyes. I usually take it down and up once more just because I know it's what they want but are too afraid to ask. As the doors open on the main floor I see a man standing with his back to me, his copper hair is slicked back and he is wearing an impeccable black silk suit. I don't need him to turn around to know exactly who he is. I've been on friendly terms with him for years now, and in a way I'd prefer him as my escort over many others.

As my heels click in the lobby he turns around and flashes me the grin that has every other woman in the Capitol on her knees. He extends his hand to me, showing a small white cub in the middle of his palm. There's a deviant glint in his eyes as he asks me, "care for a sugar cube?"

As always the banquet is a rather dull affair. Row upon row of food and drinks are set out for the rich and fabulous of the Capitol, but I find it impossible to make more than one round of the tables. Everything is so rich and filling that by the end of my first plate I am already stuffed. Though Portia always tries to get me to drink from the little clear glasses that will cause me to vomit the food I've eaten I always decline. Something about gorging yourself only to throw it up and gorge yourself once more makes me sick enough as it is. Were the people of the Capitol doing this while Prim and I turned to skin and bone? While we ate dandelions and mint leaves just to stay alive? I know without asking that the answer is yes.

As my escort Finnick stays at my side almost all night. Every once in a while he will dance off with some garish Capitol woman, probably in the hopes of seducing her into buying his tributes wonderful gifts. I can't say I don't do the same, but when I dance I talk only business. I don't think you can constitute Finnick's face buried in a woman's neck business. "So," he says as he rejoins me, straightening the tiny trident cufflinks on his sleeves. "Think you've got some good sponsors lined up?" He asks, and I nod.

"For Darren, yes. We both know no one wants to sponsor a thirteen year old." Finnick sends me one of his rakish smiles.

"They sponsored me." He grins, and I wish it were socially acceptable to shove him. In fact, in any other circumstance I would have shoved him anyway, but it's not my life resting on my behavior.

"You still looked sixteen and-"

"And devilishly handsome." He finishs for me, and I roll my eyes. "C'mon Katniss, dance with me." He offers me his hand, and I take it. Before long we are spinning around on the dance floor, and people on every side of us are murmuring. Our friendship has been noted since it first began, and people have been pairing us together at every occasion they can. Finnick and Katniss; _a match made in heaven_, they call it. Who better to mend my broken heart than the most charming man in all of Panem? I wonder what would happen if they knew our secrets. If they knew the thing that kept us close. Here, dancing in his arms, is the only place I can feel free to speak with him, when I'm so close that a whisper is hardly out of place.

"How is Annie?" I ask quietly. It had been some years ago that Finnick had let slip the secret of his true love. The mad Victor of District Four, what would people think if they knew that was the woman who had stolen his heart? His grip on me tightens and he pulls me closer. I hear several women around us sign in despair.

"Wonderful, she hasn't had a fit for quite some time… Until I left. This time of the year is hardest for her." He mutters, and I nod. This time of the year is hardest on all of us. "And how are you holding up, girl on fire?" He tries to put a playful spin on his voice, but it doesn't work.

"Oh, I hate myself more and more every day." I chime, and he lets out a short chuckle.

"That, my love, will never go away." He spins me out before pulling me back against him. "Just think of Prim, you'll get through this." He whispers, and I know it's true. Prim is sixteen now, and devastatingly beautiful. The Capitol is dying to get their hands on her, and something tells me if I don't play along exactly as I should Prims name might just be added to the bowl a few dozen extra times on accident.

"I know, I know." I close my eyes, and Finnick touches his forehead to mine. We are kindred souls Finnick and I, both playthings of the Capitol, hiding our true selves deep within. I could never love him, not like he loves Annie or Peeta loved me, but he is still one of the only friends I have. Just then a hand taps him on the shoulder, and Finnick turns around.

"Mind if I cut in?" Cinna asks with a small smile, and Finnick nods.

"So long as you don't keep her to long." He says as he pats Cinna's shoulder and goes to present himself to another Capitol woman. Several women all vie for his attention.

"I didn't know you were coming." I state as my stylist takes me in his arms, moving us gracefully to the music.

"I always come." His smile, so different from Finnick's, is still every bit as beautiful. We sway gently to the Music, steps we both know too well. The Capitol has its love for choreographed dances. "You are beautiful." His hand presses warm against the bare skin of my back, and I find I notice it more than I noticed Finnick's.

"Because of you." He lets out a soft snort.

"No. I make you what they want to see." He says as his eyes sweep the room around us. "You are beautiful in and of yourself." I looked down at our feet, unsure of how I should take his words.

"Thanks." I murmur and he grins, pressing me a little bit tighter against him.

"You are most welcome."


	3. Chapter 3

Aloof, that is the only thing I am completely confident that Darren could pull off. He isn't clever enough to be cocky, or quick enough to be clever, but I am sure he could pull off aloof. If nothing else he can look totally unafraid, as if he doesn't care. After all, that's the way he comes across most of the time anyway. Two days before their interviews, and two days after mine, I sit him down in the dining room, holding a pad of notes so I can jot any good idea that comes to me. We've been at this for over an hour and my note pad is still blank. At first I tried to talk strategy with him, but when that failed to work I turned to questions instead. "So, Darren," I said, pretending to be Caesar Flickerman. "How do you feel about being here in the Capitol?" Darren doesn't even take time to think.

"I'd rather be home." I wince.

"You can't say something like that, Darren." I say as I shake my head. "The audience will hate it. Try again." This time he does think, and he thinks too much. "Darren! You have to answer quickly, or you'll waste your three minutes!" He just stares at me, and I rub my hands over my face. "Let's move on. Darren, what is your favorite thing about the Capitol?"

"I don't have one."

"Darren, are you even trying?" I hiss. "The people in the audience, the people watching this interview, will be the ones who can save your life!" I feel my temper rising, and I suddenly realize why Effie got so frustrated with me. "If you want to make it through this you have to play along, okay?" He gives me a solemn nod. "Good, then let's try again." I look at him, searching his gray eyes that look so like mine. "So Darren, what is it back home that will keep you fighting?" I see his hand turn into fists on the table.

"My little girl." He says without hesitation. "At least, Emmi and I think it's a girl. She'll be born next month, and I don't intend on missing it." My jaw falls open, but he doesn't stop there. "My father died in a mining accident when I was young, too young to remember him, that's not going to happen to Ashley." The firm set of his jaw is almost intimidating, as if anyone or anything that tries to get in the way of him getting to his little girl will sorely regret it. "Ashley _will_ know her father." For a long time I just stare at him, where had all that come from? All that passion, all that heart, was bound to win over a few in the capitol. "Was that better, Katniss?" He asks, and I'm snapped out of my trance.

"That was perfect, Darren. Absolutely perfect." I say as I jot down a quick note. "Steer Caesar towards a question of home. Usually he'll ask if you've got a special girl, or a girlfriend. Don't talk about Emmi, go straight to Ashley. Tell them when she'll be born, what you hope she looks like. How… How much you love her." I stammer for a moment, he has a great advantage. "Do that and you'll blow the others out of the water. You're the last interview; make sure they don't even remember the ones before you."

"What about Alice's?" He asks, and I look down at my pad of paper. I run my fingers through my hair.

"There can only be one Victor, Darren." I say softly. "Worry about getting home to Emmi and Ashley." I say, and he nods. "It's getting late, you should get some rest." Without a word he rises from his chair and leaves the room, and I sit there staring at my notepad. The word, _Daughter_, Is all I have written down. That will be his strong point, his driving force. While the others are simply afraid for their lives, trying to make it home so they can live the comfortable Victor's life while their neighbors starve, Darren will have so much to fight for. He has a purpose, and for the first time I can really see a possibility of him winning.

Tomorrow is the day he gets alone time with the judges, and I told him to show them how strong he is. He could lift weights, or throw something, but I hinted at taking a dummy apart with his bare hands. He was definitely strong enough to, that solid year of swinging a pick axe had made sure of that. His arms are positively rippling with muscle, which is the reason Cinna has seen fit to dress him in clothes that fit tight around his arms. Darren is, by far, the biggest tribute in the Hunger Games. Alice, however, is the smallest, and the youngest. I rub my hands over my face as the feeling of dread hits me. I'm going to have to watch her die, I'm going to have to go home and face her family. They've all watched the Hunger Game for years, they know there isn't a chance she can survive, but they will still hold onto the hope. When I come home without her they will blame me, I was supposed to keep her alive, after all.

That's alright though, I always blame me anyway.

There's a short knock on the door before Effie sticks her head in, her bright orange wig accented with a bright blue flower. It's a ghastly combination. She walks over and delicately sits in the chair across from me, and I look to her. "How did Alice do?" I ask, and Effie nods.

"Splendid." She says with a grin. "The audience with love love love her!" She says with a grin. "Such a sweet girl! So demure and polite!" She claps her hands together and sighs before looking at me. "And Darren?"

"If he can get Caesar on the topic of home they won't even remember everyone else." I say as I push my notepad towards her. While we all know of his little one on the way the people of the Capitol don't, but they will. Effie lets out a short gasp and touches her heart.

"I'd forgotten all about that!" She says and then sighs ruefully. "I'm afraid the others will have little to say that can beat the love a father has for his daughter." I think of my own father for a moment, of the two of us hunting in the woods, and realize with a start that he is just a shape. I can hardly remember what he looks like, what he sounded like, or what words he would use in a conversation. What I can never forget, though, is the way he sounded when he sung. I snap myself out of my horrible wistfulness and give Effie a small smile.

"I think I'm going to go out for a bit." I say as I stand, pushing my dark hair over my shoulder. "I need… I need to get some air." I say, and she nods understandingly.

"Alright, just don't be out too late. We've got a big big big day tomorrow." She says before practically skipping out of the room. I stand slowly, stretching my arms over my head, listening as my spine pops as it slides back into place. I think for a moment on where I should go, but the answer seems simple. Even if I am a Mentor I am still not allowed to wander the City, I'm not a Capitol Citizen, after all. Instead I go to the one place where I can be alone, where his memory is so strong sometimes I swear I can feel him there. With hurried step I made my way to the roof, sitting myself in the Garden as the stars above twinkle and the cars rush by below.

I come here often when I am in the Capitol, mostly at night when sleep evades me. It's as good a place as any to think, and I've never been disturbed here before. I know this is counterproductive but I always find myself up here anyway. I close my eyes and remember the time Peeta and I had spent here, I remember the Cave, I remember what it was like to realize that it had all been real for him, he had been trying to protect me from the beginning. As always I feel a pang in my chest. I had spent the whole Games trying to decide if he were friend or foe, and in the end he died before I even realized the truth. I loved the boy with the bread. I curl my knees up against my chest and hug them. I hadn't known it then, when he was a living breathing thing I could love, but shortly after his death I knew it was true. I loved him, or at least the memory of him, and sometimes that was just too painful to bear.

I've tried letting him go, I've tried moving on, but it never works. When I wake in the night, screaming silently from whatever nightmare has plagued me, it is only the thought of him that calms me down. I close my eyes and imagine he is there, his strong arms around me and his breath on the back of my neck. Sometimes I even swear I can hear him whisper my name. It hurts, but not as much as letting him go would. If I did that I'd be truly alone, which is something I simply can't risk.

Suddenly I hear the door to the roof open and I freeze, wondering who could also be up this late. I stay still, hidden in the shadow of another building when a voice calls out, "Katniss?" I move slightly and Cinna turns towards me, his eyes bright in the darkness.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as he makes his way towards me, dropping himself at my side.

"Effie said you came up here, said you looked upset." I glare at nothing. How in the world had Effie even known I came up here? She had left the room before I even got up! Rather than debate Effie's questionable omnipresence Cinna carefully slides behind me, one leg on either side of me, before pulling me back against his chest. "Thinking of Peeta?" He whispers, and I allow my hands to find his arms where they are wrapped around my stomach.

"Always." I mutter, and he gives me a light squeeze.

"He'd hate to see you like this." Cinna rests his chin on my shoulder, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his breath rustling my hair. "You know he wanted you to be happy." I give a short bitter laugh. Happy? What in this life was there to be happy about? Happiness was a dream I had long ago abandoned, surviving was the only thing I concerned myself with now.

"Well then, he shouldn't have died." I look down at my feet.

"_I_ hate to see you like this, Kat." He murmurs, and I sigh. "_I _want to see you smile again. _I_ want to see the way your eyes light up when you're excited." He presses his lips to my cheek, and I lean into him. There are so many thing Cinna is to me that I sometimes find it hard to identify them all. He is my friend, my best friend. My protector, my mentor, my… I try not to think of what else he could be to me. It is on the list of things that simply hurt too much. For a long time I had believed Gale was all those things, but when I came home from the Games things had changed between us. At first we had tried to act as if nothing had happened at all. We tried to advance our relationship past what it had been, but it didn't work. My heart wasn't in it, and eventually he got tired of waiting. He found a girl he could love and who could love him back, and I couldn't be angry about that. After all, he was already twenty-two, and everyone knows people in the Seam don't live very long.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you." I hold onto his arms to make sure he won't try to leave me, but something inside of me tells me he never will. "I wish I could-"

"Shh." He breathes against my hair. "You will, Kat. Things will get better, one day." He rests his head on top of mine, and for a long time we are both silent. I wonder what he is thinking, why he stays by me even when it is so obvious there is nothing _good_ left within me. All I have left is broken, and twisted, and so mangled I don't think it can ever be mended. If I were fabric I don't think even Cinna's capable hands could fashion me into something worth anything.

Hours seem to pass by in our few minutes of silence. With his arms around my and his breath on my neck for a moment I can allow myself to forget that we are sitting on top of the training center that houses 24 children, most of which are probably too scared to sleep or crying until they do. Who are so terrified of the days to come that there is nothing else they can think of, nothing else they can focus on. For a moment it's just Cinna and I on top of the world, and I wonder how long it will be before something, or someone, comes along and shatters this perfect little bubble I've constructed in my mind. Cinna's pale hand finds mind, and as our fingers lace together I am hit with a reminder of just how different we are. His fingers; long, pale, and slender, aren't marred by calluses and scars, whereas my stubby, slightly darker ones, are covered in them.

He is Capitol. He grew up here. He belongs here. It makes me sick to think that Cinna, my sweet, sincere ally, grew up amongst the same people who wanted to see me burn. I hold his hand fiercely, and he returns the favor in kind. It doesn't matter that his roots are here, because his blossoms are so much more beautiful. He isn't like them; I remind myself fervently, nothing like them. He presses his lips to my temple, and I relax slightly. "You know I love you, Katniss." He whispers, and I nod. I'm broken, not stupid. He doesn't try to hide the look in his eyes, he doesn't try to mask it or conceal it. It is obvious to anyone who sees us together, if they are looking for it. I just wish I knew how to love him back, it's everything he deserves. "Let me love you." He presses his cheek to mine, and I shake my head.

"I can't." I turn slightly to face him; the gold rimming his eyes makes them all the more bright. "You deserve so much more than me, Cinna." At this he laughs, he actually laughs. He shakes his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

"You really don't know, do you?" He asks, but before I can inquire as to what it is I don't know he dips his head down and presses his lips to mine.

And suddenly, everything is on fire.

His arms turn to steel around me as his lips move against mine, as soft and gentle as the breeze. My hand, the one not held in his, moves up to touch his face, and he takes it as a sign of encouragement. In his kiss he pours out everything he can't express in words; his love, his devotion, his passion, his _need, _and I find much the same feelings within myself. I may be the shell of a human, but I'm still human none-the-less. I still desire to be touched, held, and cared for, even if I am not very good at returning those things. I could sit here in Cinna's arms forever, but in the end I can't give him what he really wants, I can't give him my heart. "Kat…" I feel him speak against my lips, and I pull away slightly to look at him. "You have so much more than you even know." I brush my lips against his quickly before pulling myself from his arms, standing slowly and brushing the dust from my clothes. When I look back at him I expect to see hurt in his eyes, but there is nothing but understanding.

"You mean the world to me, Cinna." I say, because it's all I can say. I can't tell him I love him, even if I might somewhere deep down. I can't love him, for his own good. He stands and captures my face between his hands, pressing his lips to my forehead. "I wish it were more."

"That is more than enough." He says as he takes my hands, pulling me towards the door.  
>"C'mon, I'll tuck you in. Lack of sleep will be horrible on your skin."<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

There are thousands of eyes all around me, eyes of every different shape and every different color imaginable. Some are ordinary colors; like brown, and blue, and green, while others have the artificial colors the capitol is so fond of; purples, and pinks, and yellow. Some of the pupils are full and round and some of them are just slits; like the eyes of a cat, or a reptile's. They follow me everywhere, mimicking my movement in the mirror their depth and darkness creates. I try to run from them, but no matter how far or how fast I move there are still thousands more, watching me, waiting for me to do something. Though most of the eyes are clear I notice that some of them are red, as if they have been crying and have only just recently been able to stop. Some of them still have tears falling from them, some have blood, and some have the gray sheen of death.

The temptation to curl in a ball and scream is almost to alluring for me to ignore, until I find a pair of bright blue eyes in the distance, a pair of eyes I have known all my life. With all I have I run towards them, even shoving eyes out of the way when they are to close. I know those eyes; I _know_ those sparkling blue eyes. I know them better than I even know my own. For they have haunted my every dream for the past four years. As I rush towards them I begin to see the shadow of a body appearing, and before the face even has time to form I throw myself into his newly forged arms, wrapping myself around him as best as I can. If I hold on tight enough maybe he won't leave me. If I tell him I love him loud enough maybe he'll actually hear me, as he hasn't these past four years. I feel tears streaming down my cheeks as I bury my face in his chest.

His hand goes under my chin and brings my face up to look at his. I obey with a grin on my face, longing to see those sapphire eyes. I am met with emerald instead. I stumble back for a moment as Cinna's face comes into view, the sharp angles of his cheek bones, the fullness of his lips, the way his brown hair sometimes almost appears red. For a moment it's almost too much to bear. The pain in my heart, the disappointment, the confusion. I stand there motionless, waiting for him to change back into Peeta, but he doesn't. Instead he grabs the sides of my arms, much harder than Cinna would ever grab me. I try to pull away but his face begins to melt off, and I scream. The face underneath, the man hiding beneath the mask of Peeta and Cinna's, is President Snow.

I shoot up in bed, gulping in massive breaths of air as my heart slams itself against my ribcage repeatedly, as if it is trying to beat away the image now plastered in my mind. I touched my arms where his hands were on me, and find they are unnaturally cold. It was so real, it felt so real. I draw my knees in and cover my face with my hands, just as the bed beings to rustle. "Katniss?" A sleepy voice beside me asks, and I jump. "Katniss it's… four in the morning. Are you alright?" Cinna asks, his eyes half lidded. For a moment I don't remember why he's here, in my bed, or why his impeccably kept hair is tousled or his shirt is gone. Then it hits me, and my cheeks burn red.

The need to be loved, to be wanted, it hadn't been left on the roof. When he had come into my room I had shut the door behind him, and thrown myself into his arms. He didn't deny me, he never denies me. This is not the first time we've woken like this, and I know it is far from being the last. I fall back into my bed, the sheets bunched up around my chest in some failed attempt at modesty. Without a word Cinna draws his arm around my stomach and pulls me back against him, cradling me with his body. "Nightmares, Kat?" He asks as he buries his face in my hair. I nod, and he lets out a breath of hot air that tickles my neck. "Wanna talk about it?" He's never pushed me before, never demanded details or even been offended when I wake up screaming Peeta's name, and most of the time I don't feel like telling him. Partly because saying it out loud only makes it feel more real, but mostly because I know it will hurt him. Even if he pretends it doesn't. How could it not? He is a living breathing man, and yet I can't let go of the one I lost years ago.

I turn in his arms to face him, and for a moment surprise registers in his eyes, but they are calm once more very quickly. "I was running," I begin in a soft voice, and he lifts his hand to stroke my hair, as he knows how it calms me. "I was running, and there were eyes everywhere. Watching me. It freaked me out, a lot, but then I found Peeta's eyes." I search him for a sign of jealousy, but there is none. "And I ran to him, the closer I got the more real he became. He got a body and… I ran into his arms." I take a moment to let out a deep breath. "But when I backed away to look at him… it was you." It's there; I can see it, a little flame of hope burning way down in his soul. A flicker so faint it seems the softest of breezed might blow it out. "But you grabbed my arms roughly, and your face melted, and it was Snow standing in your place." I swallow the lump in my throat. "That's when I woke up." He sighs and brings his hand out my hair, running it over my shoulder, down my waist and to my hip before bring it back up again. He repeats this action while he thinks of the right words to say, and I can't say I don't enjoy it.

"That is freaky." He whispers, and touched his nose and forehead to mine. "But it was just a dream, Kat. Snow isn't going to grab you, and I'm… I'm not Peeta." His voice nearly breaks, and suddenly I push myself forward, flush against him, and place my hand on his face.

"Cinna." I whisper desperately. "I don't want you to be Peeta, or anything!" I say, but I know that he doesn't believe me. I press my lips against his, and as always he responds in earnest. The warmth of him, the feel of him; he is real, and alive, and so full of love. Why can't I just love him in return? Why can't I look at him and feel everything I feel when I think of Peeta? Peeta is gone, he's dead, and he's never coming back. Cinna's right here, why can't I just take that and be happy?

"I love you, so much." He murmurs against my lips, but there is nothing but defeat in his voice. I cling to him, knowing full well what will come next. He will get out of bed, saying he needs to work on the tributes outfits or something ridiculous like that. He'll channel his emotions, his pain, into his work. Just as he always does.

"I know." I whisper fiercely, kissing him again. "I know. Please just… a little more time." I beg, my voice breaking at the end. He gets tense for a moment before relaxing slowly. "Please, don't leave me." He touches my face, pushing back a wayward curl.

"I'll never leave you, Kat." He whispers as he presses his lips to my forehead. "Get some sleep. Tomorrows a big big big day." He mutters, mimicking Effie. I nod and bury myself in the crook of his neck, allowing his arms to engulf me. I can feel his lips on my hair, kissing me to sleep. For a long time I had only known the thought of Peeta to be able to coax me to sleep after a nightmare, but in Cinna's arms sleep leaps up and swallows me whole.

I hate the ranking day. I always have. I sit in the living room of our quarters with Alice on one side of me and Darren on the other. Darren has his eyes fixed on the screen, his back straight and his hands in fists at his side. Alice, however, it practically sitting in my lap, holding my hands tightly in her tiny ones. When I asked them what they had done for the judges Darren shrugged and told me he did what I told him to do. Alice told me she had jumped around the room on top of everything; she reminded me so much of Rue it caused a physical pain in my chest.

As the faces of the tributes scrolled by with the numbers beside them I began to grow more and more nervous. Both tributes from one, two, and four had all scored high, of course, but other than that the numbers were dismal. A girl from five receives as low as a two, which I can never remember happening before. When it finally comes to District Twelve Alice's hands grow like stones in mine. Darren's face flashes on the screen, beside the number Ten. I release one of Alice's hands for just a moment to pat him in a congratulatory way, but he hardly seems to notice. I grab Alice's hand just as her face comes on the screen followed by the number Eight. The Capitol seal goes up, the anthem plays, and then everything goes back. Eight is a good solid number. She won't be hunted down for being too weak or to strong. She is almost right in the middle.

"Did I do good?" She asks; her eyes wide with a need to please. I give her hands a firm squeeze before releasing them.

"Yes, you did." I say softly, and Effie chimes in quickly.

"An eight is a perfectly lovely score!" She says in a chipper voice. "Just make sure they know you meant to get that number when you are in your interview tomorrow. Remember, sweet and confident." Effie practically sings, and Alice nods obediently. I nod in agreement, but don't say anything. Here I am giving both of these children advice on how to out survive, or maybe even kill, the other. It's beastly, and horrible, but it is how it is. "Now." Effie yawns as she stands up. "It's time for you two to get your rest, tomorrow is going to be a big big big day!" I shoot Cinna a look from across the room, he simply smirks in return. "Besides, it's time for an adult chat." Effie says as she ushers the two out of the room. When she closes the door behind her she turns quickly, looking at Cinna and I in a manner that is hardly polite. "Are you two insane?" She asks in a hushed voice, and I give Cinna a confused look. I shrug my shoulders. "Someone could have _seen_ you!" She cries indignantly.

"Effie, what in the world are you talking-"

"Him spending the night in your room!" She whispers in an intense voice, and I feel my cheeks burn red with shame. Cinna, however, doesn't even flinch. "People will find out! People will talk! Then we will have quite the scandal on our hands!"

"Why?" Cinna asks. "She is an adult, I am an adult-"

"You were _her_ stylist!"

"And I'm hardly five years older than her." He says with a shrug. "We both know, Effie, that there are men in the city twice my age who would love to get their hands on her." Under her full body gloss Effie blushes at the idea.

"It is hardly acceptable-"

"Whatever Katniss decides is acceptable is acceptable." Cinna says as he stand, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got to go put the finishing touches on the Tributes interview wear." And with that he turns and stalks out of the room, not even taking the time to wave goodbye to me.

"Now you've gone and done it." I tell Effie as I stand. "He'll be in a foul mood for hours."

"It's not proper!" She hisses.

"It's not proper to make children fight to the death!" I growl back, and the moment I say it I wish I could take it back. Effie glances around quickly, her eyes full of fear. Such talk could get the both of us in huge trouble.

"Fine, do what you will, Miss Everdeen." She mutters as she too stalks from the room. "You always do, anyway." As soon as she says it I laugh, unable to do anything else. It is a mad sound, and I realize how crazy I must seem. Still, I don't explain my laughter; one rebellious outburst is enough for one night.

Do what I will? I have not been able to do what _I_ will since she called Prim's name the day of the reaping. Ever since that day every moment of my life has been dictated, every move and every action judged by the Capitol. President Snow may not have given me distinct instructions, but he made the consequences clear the day he had a ten foot tall fully electric fence erected around Twelve with three feet of solid concrete going under it. I hadn't been able to escape into the woods since I became a Mentor. Not knowing what else to do, and feeling rather silly standing in the living room with all these vicious thoughts in my head, I decide there is only one place I can go, one person who will understand.

It's almost as if I'm standing in front of the elevator before my decision is even made. Hurriedly I step past the glass doors and press four repeatedly. A voice behind me laughs. "Pressing it more won't make it go any faster." Finnick says, and he catches me so by surprise I actually squeal.

"Finnick!" I cry. "How the hell did I not notice you?" I ask, and he simply grins.

"I can be sneaky when I so choose." He says as the doors open on the fourth floor, but he presses the button for the roof. "We can't talk there." He whispers, and for a moment I wonder how it is that everyone seems to know about my love for that place. For a long time it had been almost like a secret sanctuary to me, only now I was beginning realizing it wasn't so secret as I had thought.

When the doors open to the small flight of stairs I hurry up them, and while my first impulse is to go to the garden I turn the other way. The garden is Peeta and I's place, Cinna and I's place, and Finnick has no business there. When we finally come to the edge of the building I stop and sit myself down against a short smoke stack that is relatively clean and free of smoke at the moment. I turn to look at him just as he drops himself beside me. "How did you know I was coming to look for you?" I ask, and he shrugs.

"You're not the only one who comes up to the roof to think." He traces a bit of dirt on the roof with his finger, drawing a little picture in it. A name. I know without craning my neck to read it what it says.

"How do you deal with it?" I ask carefully. "How do you… survive?" He smiles bitterly.

"I don't." He whispers. "I hide myself away in a little box deep inside and only Annie holds the key." He murmurs before looking up at me. "Create your own box, Katniss. Give Cinna the key." I furrow my eyebrows.

"How did you-"

"Sum it up to a man's intuition." There is something he's not telling me, something important. I want to press him for details, but I know that will hardly be fair. I can't ask him to divulge all his secrets when I'm so unwilling to divulge mine. Instead I sigh and look down at my hands. "It's hard, Katniss. And it's only going to get harder." He sighs, and I feel my hope draining. "It's going to get harder and harder and harder, until you yourself are so hard you no longer feel it." He turns to look at me, and I feel my heart sink into my stomach. His eyes are so hopeless it almost makes me cry. "That is when they will have won, when you become numb to everything. Like the morphlings, or Haymitch. When they have that much control on even how you feel…" He stops and looks out at the flashing city. "Don't let that happen."

"I… I won't." I say, but he just gives me a sad grin.

"Oh Katniss. You already have."


	5. Chapter 5

For a while I just stand there in front of the phone with my hand hovering over it. I know I _should _call them, but some selfish part of me deep down doesn't want to. I don't want to hear their voices; I don't want to miss them more than I should. I curse under my breath, I promised I would call every week, and it would hardly be fair of me to break that promise. Instead I pick up the phone and dial the number before I lose my nerve. The phone doesn't even ring one full time before it's picked up. "Katniss?" Prim's voice is so full of hope my heart nearly bursts. So different from the little girl I volunteered for, and yet still the same. I try to imagine her as she is now, so beautiful boys have already been asking Mom to allow them to date her, which seems rather silly. Prim, however, doesn't show the slightest interest in such things. With her whole heart she longs to become a healer, and with her natural talent I know she will do it with ease.

"Hey Prim." I say, and she lets out a short sigh of relief.

"Mom! Mom, it's Katniss!" I hear Prim shout into the house, and the sound of a chair scraping back. Suddenly I hear a short struggle, and guess that the two are fighting over the phone. It makes me smile.

"Katniss? Hello! Have you been having Nightmares? You look so tired on TV…" My mother chides, and I roll my eye. It would be like her to notice something like the bags under my eyes.

"You know how it is." I say as I lean against the wall, holding the phone to my right ear lightly. "How's everything at home?" I ask, and Prim grabs the phone back.

"Wonderful!" Prim says excitedly. "Lady just had her kid!" She squeals. "A pretty little nannie!" She squeals, and for a moment I remember being back in the shack by the meadow, and I think of how much a second nannie would have made everything so much better. "We sold her billie to the Goat man to use as a breeder, because he said that he was such a fine goat." Prim rattles on, and I can't help but grin. To hear Prim so excited and full of life lifts my own spirits.

"There's someone who wants to say hi to you, Katniss." My mother says, and I hear the phone change hands, I was about to ask who it was when the voice at the other end caused my heart to stop.

"Hey Catnip." Gale says softly, and I'm suddenly thrown back into the years before the Games, the years of fishing and hunting and foraging in the woods together. I have always believed it was Gale I would have fallen in love with if it weren't for the Games, if I hadn't Volunteered. His voice still causes a feeling of unease within me. How many times had I hurt him, even though he had meant the world to me? How many times had I broken his heart?

"Hey Gale." I respond after a moment of silence. "Uh, what are you doing at my house? You're not hurt, are you?" Gale laughs softly.

"No, I'm fine. It's Laramie." I grip the phone a bit tighter.

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah." He lets out a short laugh. "Better than okay. She's… She's pregnant." I don't know why, but the thought of Gale being a father makes me feel horribly jealous, and I can't figure out why. Is it because some part of me is yelling that it should be me having his children, or because I'll never be allowed that normal of a life?

"That's wonderful, Gale!" I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. "Congratulations."

"Oh c'mon Catnip, I know how you feel about kids." He mutters softly so his wife won't hear, and I frown.

"Just because I don't want any of my own doesn't mean I can't be happy for you." I rebuke. "And I am, Gale. I really am." He sighs and I can imagine he's running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it. Suddenly the door behind me opens, and Effie, flanked by a couple of Peace Keepers, enters. "Gale, tell my mother and sister I'll call them back." I say and I hang up the phone before he has the chance to ask why I'm leaving. I turn to face them, and the nervousness behind Effie's smile fills me with dread.

"I told you she'd be here! That mother of her's is so very protective, even now!" Effie laughs brightly, but the Peacekeepers don't join in. She looks between the two awkwardly before straightening the giant bow on her lime green vest. "Well, I will just leave you to your business. Let me know if you need anything at all!" She calls before hurrying from the room, and I don't blame her. If they make even her feel uncomfortable she can't possibly imagine how they make me feel.

"What can I do for you, Gentlemen?" I ask carefully, glancing between the two faces. They are young, fresh and clean shaved. So different from the Peace Keepers back home.

"President Snow requires your presence." The taller of the two says in a clipped voice. I feel the icy cold fingers of fear spread through me.

"May I ask why?" They look at each other, and it's obvious they have no idea why.

"This way, Miss Everdeen." The other says, neither of them even bothering with trying to think up an excuse as to why they don't know the reason behind my summoning. I can't help but wonder if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Is the reason so menial he hadn't even bothered telling them, or so important they didn't have that kind of authorization? My bet was the latter. Still, I follow them out of the door, ready to go on a full excursion to Snow's Mansion. I am rather surprised to find Snow sitting in the living area of our quarters. Upon my arrival Snow stands and holds his arms out to me as if I am some long missed friend.

"Miss Everdeen!" He coos. "It has been to long!" Obediently I walk over to him and he kisses both of my cheeks, the smell of blood and the fact that his hands are on the exact spots on my arms he had grabbed in my dream nearly makes me sick.

"President Snow, this is quite the unexpected honor." I say in an even voice, not quite sure if my charade the past few years has fooled even him. He releases me, much to my relief, and sits down, patting the seat beside him. I perch myself on the couch a little farther than he had indicated, but he hardly seems to notice.

"Katniss, I am sure you are aware that as a Victor you have certain… duties you must uphold for Panem." I try to list them all in my head, but find the list to long to even note. "I have one last request of you." I feel my heart jump into my throat, one _last_ request? Did this mean the interviews, the exclusives, everything, would end?

"Of course." I say with an eager nod, and he grins wickedly. He touches my chin and turns my face side to side, as if inspecting me. The way he did this was so much different that the way Cinna had. When Cinna had done it it had been to admire his work, with Snow it felt as if I was a horse being inspected before a purchase.

"You are quite a lovely young lady, Miss Everdeen." He says in a matter-of-fact voice. I begin to get nervous. "You've accomplished much in your short years, and yet there are still a few more things before you." He stands from the couch and walks over to the window, his hands folded behind his back. "The question blooming around the Capitol is when you will get married." I swallow the lump in the back of my throat. "We shall give them an answer. You'll be married at the conclusion of the Victor's tour, here in the Capitol." He turns his eyes towards me slowly. "Where you shall remain."

Suddenly it is as if everything in my life goes up in smoke. I sputter for a moment, unable to believe the words that have come out of his mouth. At the end of the Victor's Tour? That would be little more than seven months away! I shake my head, trying to understand everything. "But… to who?" I ask, and President Snow grins wickedly. He drums his fingers together as he looks at me.

"I have had quite a few… _Suitors_ approach me with different offers, begging me for the chance to marry you." He crossed the room, looking down at me with his snake-like eyes. "One offer was so grand I could not say no." He leans forward, and I cannot help but look away. "All those questions, all those _rumors_ will now be squashed instantly." He purrs, and for a moment I can't help but wonder how many other Victors have been faced with this demand before.

"But…" I begin, my heart beating so quickly and my mind reeling so much it's hard to form a coherent thought. "I can't go home?" I ask, and Snow gawfs.

"Of course not!" He cries. "Your future Husband is a Capitol Citizen, so here is where you will stay. You will still have your house back in Twelve, but you will live here." A devious grin covers his inflated lips. "And in marrying him you will become a Capitol Citizen yourself." And suddenly I feel as if I've hit a wall. There will be no escape, three hundred and sixty five days a year the Capitol populace will be watching me, their eyes never blinking. I will never be allowed to escape, even when/if a new Victor from Twelve takes my place as Mentor. I will be trapped here, forever. I feel tears of despair stinging my eyes.

"Who is he?" I ask, and President Snow laughs.

"Your betrothed has asked to remain a secret." He pulls a small black box out of his jacket pocket and hands it to me. "Wear this from now on, never take it off. When you are asked about it don't answer. Blush and say your Fiancée wishes to remain unnamed, for the time being." The glint in his eyes makes me realize what he is doing. He is giving the Capitol something to enjoy, something to ponder over, between the announcing of the Victor and the Victor's Tour.

"Please-" I begin, but find the words are empty. There will be no bargaining here, no begging. My fate has been decided. Snow watches me intently, waiting for some sign of rebellion, but instead I open the box, I let out a short gasp as my eyes fall on the ring. It is made of a bright, shining metal, with a diamond the size of the nail on my pinky finger set in it. It would buy food for years back in Twelve. Snow continues watching me until I take the ring out of the box and slip it onto the ring finger of my left hand. Everything stops, and I realize I have just agreed. With tears no longer threatening to fall I look up at Snow, and he smiles fondly at me.

"There's a good girl." He says as he pats my head. "Now, go get ready for the Interviews, we'll want to give everyone a good look at that ring." He says before turning and leaving the room, his two guards fall behind him in tow. I stay on the couch with my head in my hands until the door on the other side of the room, the one I had entered through, opens and Effie appears. She is not smiling; in fact it appears as if she is on the verge of tears. I sit up and push my hair back, showing her that I am not crying. She rushes forward and falls to her knees in front of me, wrapping her arms around me protectively as tears fall from her eyes. She had listened to everything, her first act of rebellion, I would imagine. Awkwardly I put my arms around her as well, feeling the way she shakes with repressed sobs.

"Oh Katniss!" She weeps into my hair. "This is… this is _dreadful!_" She cries as I pat her back, and it feels strange that I should be the one comforting her, as I am the one whose life has just been sold.

"It's alright, Effie." I whisper, though it is everything but alright. "I'll do what I have to do." She pulls away from me, and the look in her eyes reminds me that she does actually care for me, despite what I would like to believe about all Capitol Citizens besides Cinna.

"But Cinna-" She stops when she sees how I flinch at his name. What will he think when he finds out? Obviously he will be hurt, but he cannot blame me, as it is not my fault. I give Effie's back another awkward pat and she nods. "We'll… We'll think of something." She says before standing, and I find I am rooted in place. "Come, we need to get you ready for tonight." She glances down at my ring and smiles falsely. "It is a gorgeous ring." She says before taking my hand and pulling me from the room.

It would appear that both Gale and I have received big news today.

((For anyone interested this is Katniss's ring! .))


	6. Chapter 6

Note from Author: Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews and subscriptions. I just wanted to let you know that there is some Lemon in this chapter. Quite a bit, actually. So if you'd like to skip that I promise I won't be offended. Otherwise I'd love more reviews, this is my first time writing this sort of thing, and feedback would be lovely. :D Thanks a bunch, enjoy!

Alice looks positively precious up on stage, her light brown hair in thick curls framing her face and a dress of pale blue flowing around her. Her makeup is minimal, and yet she looks like a china doll. The audience ooh'es and ahh'es as she speaks, laughing and clapping whenever she blushes or does something cute. I am so impressed by her performance, so astonished. She has the audience in the palm of her little hands, and I see people writing down her name and District as her Interview draws to a close. Just as she is about to walk away she hugs Caesar and blow a kiss to the audience, and I see several people try to catch it, just as they had with my kisses. They were so predictable, it is almost comforting.

When it finally comes time for Darren I sit forward in my seat, my hands up to cover my lips and jaw. It is then that I turned sideways to see my face has come up on the screen, with a wide shot of my hand and the glittering diamond on it. Almost everyone in the audience gasps, begging to know what it is and who has given it to me. They murmur and called out, and Caesar has a hard time reeling them back in. I curse under my breath, would they even remember how sweet and cute Alice had been now? I look sideways at Cinna, and I almost wish I hadn't. There is a look of pure horror on his face, though most would not notice it is there at all.

Cinna always has such great control of his features that he almost seems emotionless at times, but I can see it in his eyes, in the tight set of his jaw. He is staring at my ring, and his face has drained of all color. His hands gripped his armrest so hard his knuckles turn white. I look away in shame, we would have to talk about this tonight. There would be no way around it. I had hoped to be able to tell him what was happening before he saw it, there had been no time before now. "So Darren," Caesar says loudly, finally getting the audience under control. I send Cinna one last sideways glance and this time his eyes are locked on mine, and I've never seen such pain in a pair of eyes before. I have to look away before I break down.

"How did your family react to your name being reaped?" I glare at Caesar, what kind of question is that? Still Darren hardly shifts in his seat.

"Well, my father died when I was young," the audience sighs. "And my mother died of fever last year." At this they all seem to slump back in their chair.

"So you have no one at home waving around little 'Darren' banners right now?" I sit back in my seat and grin, I could not have planned it better myself.

"Oh, I do." He says with a grin, and I can't help but wonder where that look came from.

"Grandparents?"

"Nope."

"Aunts and Uncles?"

"Nope."

"Ah, so a girlfriend." Caesar says, and Darren nods. "What's her name?"

"Emmi." He says, and the love in his voice shocks me. He says her name so gently, so delicately; you could hardly believe a man as big and intimidating as Darren could break a heart with a word like that.

"Ah, pretty?" Caesar elbows him playfully, and Darren smiles and looks down.

"Especially now." He replied, and before Caesar has a chance to ask why that is Darren looks up at the audience. "She'll be giving birth to our little girl next month." And the audience breaks into a frenzy. Nothing like this has ever happened before. We've never had a pregnant tribute or a male tribute with a girl back home expecting. Caesar stumbles for a moment, another thing I've never known to happen.

"She's… she's pregnant?" Caesar asks, and Darren nods.

"Eight months." He says and reaches into his pocket. "Want to see a picture of her?" The audience yells its approval, and Darren holds a small black and white picture up for the cameras to see, and I hold my breath. She's gorgeous. Tall and curvy with long light hair that hangs straight around her waist. She's not eight months pregnant in the picture but she is showing. Darren is looking down at her as if she is the whole world.

"Wow." Caesar breathes out. "She's beautiful." Darren nods and puts the picture back in his pocket.

"And Ashley is going to be even prettier. That's the name we've chosen, Ashley." The audience mimics the name, breathing life into it. "Before I left I promised her, Ashley, that I would win, that I would come home. I never knew my father, he died a few months after my mom found out she was pregnant." He shakes his head. "That won't happen to Ashley, she will know her father. She will know how much he… how much I love her." There isn't a single dry eye in the audience, and I have my hand over my heart. How could anyone in the room remember my ring, let alone the other tributes, in the wake of the bomb Darren just dropped? They didn't stand a chance. Suddenly the buzzer went off, and it took Caesar a moment to compose himself.

"Well Darren, I think I speak for all of us when I say we hope you do get home to that little girl of yours." He shakes Darren's hand, and the Tributes stand and the Anthem plays and the cameras come out. Before they can get another picture of me I usher my Tributes away from the stage, back to our quarters, and into their beds. I know what tonight will be like to them. They will not get a wink of sleep, not an ounce. They will sit on their beds, or pace their room, and try to make sense of what will happen to them. It's the worst night by far; even the nights in the Arena are not as bad as the night before. Well, assuming they both make it till night fall tomorrow.

When I finally make it to my room I find that Cinna is already waiting for me, and I can't even fathom how he beat me. I rub the sides of my arms, looking down at my feet, very aware that my ring is facing him. "I don't know where Darren pulled all of that from." I whisper, in a way of breaking the tangible tension in the room. "He really-"

"Who, Kat?" Cinna asks, and I curl in on myself a bit more. "Who?"

"I…" I start, looking everywhere but him. "I don't know." When I raise my eyes to look at him he is leaning against the window frame, biting his knuckle.

"How… how long have you known?" He places his hands on his hips.

"President Snow came right before the interview." I answer flatly, and Cinna breaks for a moment, laughing manically. He fists his hands in his hair and turns away from me.

"And he told you, what? That you were getting married?" There is spite in his voice, and I know what he's thinking. He's thinking I've known about this, that I've been using him. I take a few steps closer to him but he holds up his hand and I stop.

"He said… I have duties as a victor." I mutter. "He… he _sold_ me, Cinna. He _sold_ me!" Cinna looks up at me slowly, and I can't place the look in his eyes. Anger, jealousy, hatred, fear, and desperation all rolled into one. I tighten my arms around me.

"When?" He looks back out the window, his hands braced on the window frame. I shuffle my feet nervously.

"At the end of the Victor's Tour." He hangs his head, and I can see that his body is shaking with the effort he is using to keep his control.

"No." He says as he shakes his head, turning to look at me. "No."

"Cinna." I whisper. "President Snow-" He crosses the room and captures my face in his hands.

"I said no!" He whispers intensely. "No, I will not watch you marry another man. A stranger that you don't even know." His hands go to the back of my head and press my forehead to his. "No." I knot my hands in the front of his shirt and pull him closer.

"How can we stop it?" I ask, and he sighs.

"Marry me, Kat." He sighs. "Then the Capitol gets their wedding, you haven't come out and said who he is-"

"Are you crazy?" I hiss. "And anger Snow to the point where Prim's name might just be slipped into the bowl a couple hundred times? Maybe every slip will have her name on it!" I grip him tightly but I shake my head. "There's got to be another way." I can see it now, running off and marrying Cinna tonight. Snow would lose however much money the man had paid him for me, and then what would happen? He couldn't hurt me, not when the public loves me like they do, but that doesn't mean Prim and my mother are off limits. I can't allow them to get hurt, not because of me.

"We have to… I can't… Kat, I can't lose you." He meets my eyes, and I don't understand how eyes can be _that_ green. Greener than any tree I had ever seen in the forest, greener than any blade of grass, with flecks like sun drops.

"You won't." I lick my lips. "You won't, lose me. Not ever." He dips his head down and presses his lips against mine, and what I know he had meant it to be a short sweet kiss, but it was like adding gasoline to a fire. His lips taste of tears, and his cheeks are wet where they touched mine. There is an urgency in his kiss, a thirst for something deeper than I can give him. Still, I respond with everything I can muster, all the passion and love I have inside of me. It might not be enough, but it's something. He might not have been able to have me forever, despite my reassurances, but he can have me tonight, and as many nights as we can steal between now and my wedding. I wrapped my arms around his neck as his deft hands untie the laces on the back of my dress. I allow it to fall and pool around my feet, a cloud of yellow fabric. His hands are everywhere at once, running down my back, over my arms, cupping my breasts, pulling me towards my bed.

I pull his jacket down and begin unbuttoning the tiny buttons of his black silk shirt, tearing the last button off when I become too frustrated. He takes his hands off me for just long enough to get the sleeves off his hands before his lips come crashing down on mine. He captures my lower lip between his teeth and I let out a soft moan, he grabs my hips and pulls me against him as I fumble with his belt buckle. Why does he always have to wear such complicated things? After a few more moments of clumsy fumbling he laughs softly and undoes it with one swift movement, allowing his pants and undershorts to fall to the ground at the foot of my bed. I try to think of something witty to say but he silences me with his lips once more. I revel in the feeling of our skin touching, the warmth of him against me. He hooks one arm under me and lifts me onto the bed, laying me on my back before crawling ontop of me.

His lips trail down from mine across my chin and jaw, finding all the places on my neck clumsy first times had revealed to be my favorite. While he supports himself on one elbow he uses his other hand to explore my body, and every time he does this it is as if it is the first, with all the wonder and excitement of first lovers. His fingers trail gently down the curve of my breast, stroking the soft flesh before closing in on the rosy peak. They pinch and tickle and tease and all the while I feel a fire light within me. With a grin he lifts his head from my neck and brings it down on my nipple, taking it into his mouth gently before nibbling on it, his tongue flickering across it as his hand kneads my other breast. I gasp; my back arching as he catches it between his teeth and pulls gently before allowing it to fall back into place. "Cinna…" I gasp huskily, and he covers my mouth with his.

"It's me." He says breathlessly. "It's me you're supposed to marry. Not some man who's in love with the public image of you." His hand drifts down from my breast across my stomach, and I feel myself tighten with anticipation. I know what is coming next, and I feel myself knotting.

"You don't have to convince me." I press my head back into the bed as his fingers thread through the soft curls, teasingly skipping my core to stroke my inner thigh.

"I'm the one who loves you." He adds, his eyes meeting mine. "You are the world to me." As he says it his finger flutters over my opening, and I groan. His finger strokes the small nerved filled bud and I jerk slightly. His eyes fill with a mixture of mischief and desire. He buries his face in my hair as his hardness presses against my leg. I angle my hips up towards him as he slips a finger inside of me, and my nails dig into his shoulders. "Tell me what you want, Katniss." He says airily, and my head is swimming.

"You." He pulls away slightly, his eyes meeting mine. "Forever. Just you." I add, and for a moment it is as if he forgets his desire, for pure love floods his eyes and I can't help but feel my heart jump in my chest.

"You already have me." He uses the hand that is not driving me mad to brush my hair back. "Always." I lift my head and press my lips to his, and he hums. His fingers, so adept at sewing and creating now massage me with such fervency that I feel the tension growing stronger and stronger within me. I squirm as his thumb finds my bud once more, rubbing it gently as his fingers slip in and out. "Say it again, Kat."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders as I feel the fire consume me until I really _am _on fire. "I want you, forever." I whimper, and he chuckles throatily. He presses deeper, and I come undone. I arch my back as waves of pleasure roll over me, and Cinna bites into my neck. I gasp and murmur his name, threading my hands in his hair until the throws finally calm down, leaving my tingling and wanting more. He shifts himself slightly, positioning himself just outside of me.

"I love you," he positions his elbows on either side of my head. "I would risk everything for you." He kisses the tip of my nose, and I giggle.

"So would I." With that he slides himself into me, he hisses and I see stars. Still sensitive from moments before I feel every press against me, every inch of us rubbing together.

"God, Kat." He grunts as he kisses my cheek, his hips moving against mine. "You're so beautiful." He presses his lips against mine as he moves within me, and I let out a soft moan. He hides his face in my hair as he thrust, whispering sweet nothings into my hair as I feel the tension growing once more. I run my finger nails down his back as he picks up pace, digging himself deeper into me.

"Cinna." I moan, and he grabs a fistful of my hair. "Oh, Cinna. I'm-"

"Let me hear you sing, Katniss." He whispers as he pulls my hair, and I come. Knowing just how thick the walls around us really helps, and over the years I've perfected just how loud I can be without being discovered. I cry out softly, pressing myself into him as I tighten around him. This little extra sensation pushes him over the edge, for soon his cries are mingling with mine, and when he finally stops we are both breathless and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Cinna drops onto the bed beside me, his eyes fever bright and his smile even brighter. "I love you." He says again, and I turn to face him.

"I know, Cinna." I say as I cup his face. He takes my hand and presses it to his lips, holding it there for a long time.

"We'll think of something." He sighs as he pulls me against his chest, holding me tightly in the cool darkness. "He won't take you away from me." He says firmly, and I nod.

"He can't." I add, though I know President Snow has the power to do just that. If he wanted to he could pull me from Cinna and I would never see him again. I grip him in the darkness, no, that will not happen. If I were to lose Cinna, I shudder, I can't even imagine something that horrible. Cinna wiggles slightly before throwing the blanket over us, pressing his lips to my forehead once more.

"Sleep, Kat. Tomorrow the Games begin." I can hear in his voice that he is drifting off. I open my eyes and the sight before me causes me heart to tighten. The diamond ring on my finger shines in the pale moon light mockingly. I grip the blankets and hold onto him.

"Yes, they do." I say before closing my eyes, knowing that like my Tributes I will probably get no sleep tonight either.


	7. Chapter 7

I place on hand on Alice's shoulder and the other on Darren's, taking turns looking at them as I go over the final list of tips I've acquired over the years to help them survive. I know Cinna will do his best to comfort Alice on the way to the Arena, but she trusts me. I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze as we wait for the hovercraft, and I speak in an urgent yet quiet tone. "Remember," I begin. "Always sanitize your water. _Always_. I don't care how clear it looks or how clean it smells, the game makers aren't above poisoning your only water supply." I say as I check that off my mental list. "If you're not entirely certain a plant is edible don't risk it." I think back to Foxface for a moment but I don't say anything. "During the first couple of days get as far away from the other tributes as you can." I turn to look at Alice. "If you hear one coming hide." I look to Darren. "If you hear one coming get ready to fight." I take a deep breath and continue.

"If you have to choose between safety and food always choose safety. You have a big advantage here. The Careers aren't used to being hungry, but you two, you two know how to be hungry, don't you?" Then nod their heads and I wet my lips. "The Careers will start by swarming the Cornucopia; they'll horde all the weapons and the food they find. If you can get it away from them then do, they don't know how to hunt or forage. Take shelter at night, because that's when they come hunting." The two nod solemly, and for a moment I allow my hands to slide off of them as I turn to them individually, starting with Darren.

"When the gong rings run to the cornucopia. Grab whatever you can, kill as many of them as you need to. The faster you get a weapon the better your chances are of survival." I think of something and quickly add, "don't get greedy. As soon as you get your hand on a pack don't stop to look in it, run." He nods and I turn to Alice, surprised to find there are no tears in her eyes.

"I don't want you to go anywhere near the Cornucopia." I tell her. "You turn in the other direction and you run as fast and as far as you can." She looks at me in confusion.

"But then I won't get a pack…" I shake my head.

"The Careers don't just use the Cornucopia as a chance to get supplies; they will kill as many tributes as they can. Darren will be able to take care of himself; he's the biggest in the game. You, on the other hand, a big boy from District One could snap you in half." She shudders, and I see the hovercraft come into view. "One last thing." I say as I give them each a hug, as there is a chance it will be the last hug they ever receive. "Don't get killed."

Reluctantly I usher them over towards the ladder as it descends, watching as they freeze and are carried up into the metal contraption. I shudder as the great door slides shut and the hover craft melts from view. I feel my heart break somewhere deep within me. One of them, probably both of them, will never see their families again. They will never love, never laugh, never grow old. Darren might never see his daughter grow into a beautiful young girl. Alice might never have her first kiss. There are so many lives that have been lost. So far one-thousand-seven-hundred-and-ninety-four children have been sacrificed to these bloody thirsty games. Twenty four tributes go in, one comes out, accept the year of the 2nd Quarter Quell, where they had twice as many tributes. For the 3ed Quarter Quell all the tributes had been under the age of fifteen. It is always horrible to see one or two children in the game, but twenty four of them? It had been unbearable.

The door behind me slides open and I know Effie steps out by the sharp click of her heels. They have a distinct sound, more like a whistle than a clap. She places her arm around me and pulls me away from the spot the hover craft had vanished from nearly ten minutes ago. "C'mon Katniss, we've got work to do." She says softly as she rubs my arm. She knows how hard this is for me, how hard this is for everyone. Sometimes I wonder how Haymitch could have done it, how he could have watched his tributes die for so many years, and then I remember he did it mostly blazing drunk. I've only been in Haymitch's shoes four years and I already see the appeal of the numbness liquor offers. But I can't allow myself to do that. No matter how it hurts me, no matter how many times I am destroyed inside I remind myself that I am their only chance of survival, without me they are hopeless.

We enter a long room with a large screen on one wall and a desk lining the other. Our phone team sits ready and alert, ready to take the call of any willing sponsor sitting at home waiting for their favorite tribute to need something. I already have a few who have signed that they will sponsor Darren when he needs it, but I know there are dozens of others simply waiting to pool their money for his relief. I feel my heart drop into my chest, no one wants to give money to Alice and even if they had I would have put it with Darren's anyway. I can only save one of them.

"They are almost to the site." A man with lime green hair says and I look at him in confusion.

"Already?" He nods his head.

"The location must be close by." He hums, and I begin to make a mental map of their possible location. Heavily wooded, full of mountains and big game. The kids from District Seven will have the advantage, but at least the lack of large bodies of water will take away any hope of an edge the tributes from Four could have. I sit myself in my large arm chair and place on my head set. Here is where I will sit, night and day, watching my tributes die. There is a small bed in the corner I will nap on during the night while they rest, but someone will always be watching them, just in case. I glance over at the bed; I will not be getting a lot of sleep there, more like none at all. I can't sleep knowing there are lives in my hands, what if something was to happen while I sleep?

Suddenly the screen pops and the Capitol Seal comes into vision. Seneca Crane is shown, smiling and bright eyed, as he welcomes us all to the Seventy-Eight Hunger Games, and he assures us this will be the best one yet! As he speaks the camera begins to pan out, and we get our first view of the location, and my heart stops in my chest. The camera is flying above the arena, showing the great expanses of it. There is a wide lake, surrounded by trees on one side and desert on the other. The cornucopia is in the middle of the water, and the tributes begin to rise around it. I swear under my breath. This has happened a few times before; sometimes the Game Makers like to give a specific district the upper hand just to make things interesting. As we catch sight of the tributes the general look is that of shock and dread, most of them can't swim. The Tributes from four, however, grin at each other. The time begins to melt down on the screen, ticking away as they all stand there.

I notice that some of them have tears streaking down their faces, and if I were their Mentors I would be furious. Sponsors never go for the weak ones. The Seconds feel like years as the tributes look around, look at each other. You can easily see that they are each trying to think of a plan, trying to think of a way to get around the water. There is no way, however, they are surrounded. The seconds tick by, and then the last one dissolves into a zero and the gong rings I'm surprised to see Alice dive into the water with the tributes from District Four.

I lean forward in my chair, watching as the tributes from four glide through the water. Alice isn't as stream line or graceful but most of the other children haven't even left their platform yet. I glance around in fear. The tributes from Four are already at the Cornucopia fighting over a net, and Alice grabs two things; a vicious looking knife and a green backpack. Without waiting for the others to even notice she is there she jumps back into the water, swims to shore, and disappears into the forest before they even realize she had made it to the platform at all. I rub my hands over my face, how in the world had she known how to swim? I rack my mind, had her father also taken her to the lake outside of District Twelve and taught her to swim? For some reason that makes me angry, to think of another father and daughter at _our_ lake, but my anger quickly dissipates as the rest of the tributes finally make it to the platform.

I am surprised to find that the first canon fire belongs to the girl from One, and it is at the hands of Darren. As she had been on the disk closest to him, they had arrive at the Cornucopia at the same time. It almost looks as if she's approaching him to ask if he would join the careers, but instead he put a hand on either side of her head and jerks it sideways. Her body falls to the ground; he snapped her neck without even blinking an eyelash. There is blood lust in his eyes, and I know what he was seeing. They were all standing the way, standing between him and his daughter. When he gets his hands on a mace, a horrible looking thing with three inch razor sharp spikes, he takes down the boy from District Ten and the girl from District Three as well. He fills his arms with as many things as he can carry before he heads towards the tree line, moving through the water hardly even in a rush.

The camera changes to find that Alice has already put a great distance between herself and the Cornucopia. She is still running, her thin arms pumping at her sides as her feet flt beneath her. Every time a Cannon sounds she jumps, and every time a branch brakes near her she runs a little faster. There is no point; she hss already out distanced the other tributes by a long way, but I know what she is feeling at this moment. All she wants to do is run, she wants to get away from everything as quickly as she can, and who can blame her? She's fast, and for that much I am grateful. She runs for a good solid hour before she stops, breathing too hard run any farther. She walks up to a tree with a low branch and places the blade between her teeth, grabbing the branch she pulls herself up until she is too high in the tree for the others to see. She is so much like myself it was unnerving.

When she opens the contents of her bag I take a mental note of all the things she has. A sleeping bag, matches, a canteen, iodine, a hatchet, a roll of medical bandages, a bag of jerky, a length of rope, and a long thin metal pipe that looked sort of like a whistle. I can't imagine what it would be useful for, as it will probably give away her location, but know the Game Makers have placed it in the bag for a reason. She surveys all her objects, and seems about as excited about the whistle as I am. She turns it over in her hands a few times before tucking it into the pocket of her trousers. She rests in the trees for a few minutes before packing everything back up and scurrying down. As soon as her feet hit the ground she is running again, and when the camera zooms away to a picture of a map showing red dots for each Tribute I am glad to see just how much space she has put between herself and her fellow tributes.

There were seven cannon shots during the initial blood bath at the cornucopia. The girl from One, the boy from Three, the boy and the girl from Five, the boy from Seven the girl from ten and the girl from eleven were all among the dead within the first few hours. When the camera turns to Darren he is carrying the mace, a dagger, two packs, and is headed north in the Forest. He walks almost lazily, and it is easy to see why. All the other red dots now shown on a tiny map in the corner of the screen have made sure not to follow his obvious path through the woods. I am sure the Careers want to hunt him down and take him out as quickly as they can, but none of them want to risk facing him alone. I smirk, the audience will love it. He walks and walks until he come to a small river near a crop of rocks as the sun begins to set. He hasn't even checked to see what was in his packs. Most of the things inside are like the things in Alice's pack, only where she has her sleeping bag he has a self-assembling and collapsible tent that looks greatly like a large rock. It won't be fooling anyone in the daytime, but I have a feeling he will be invisible during the night.

He puts it up quickly between two other large rocks, and as he crawls in while the sun sets behind the mountains he really is invisible. The screen splits off to find Alice high in a tree once more, setting her beg between two thick branches. She has woven the smaller, more pliable, branches together to make a sort of mat for herself, and I know from the look of it that she has listen to me and spent some time in the knot tying station. As she settles in they begin to show the dead tributes in the sky. I watch them all flash by, relieved, if not slightly shocked, that both of mine had made it this far. Surviving the night, however, will be a completely different story.

Alice sighs and closes her eyes, and I pray that all of Panem is looking at her right now. She is so young and sweet, it is impossible to not wish to help her. If people are watching her right now they won't see a little girl, but an angel. I close my eyes for a moment, hoping everyone is seeing what I am seeing. Suddenly both of our eyes fly open as a piercing shriek fills the night. Alice looks around in fear, it wasn't they type of scream any child could make. It wasn't even a sound a person could make at all. The fear seems to register on our faces at the same time.

_Mutts._


	8. Chapter 8

All at once I try to recall every game I have ever seen, every game I have ever studied. I run through them in my mind, trying to recall each and every instance I can remember. Sure, mutts have been used in the games before, even in my own game. My mind conjures a picture of the mutt with Peeta's eyes but I shove it down and lock it away somewhere dark. That creature had nearly ripped my heart out. I think that is very ironic. Mutts have been used before, but never in the first night! I run my fingers through my hair nervously, the games are supposed to get progressively harder as the days go by, how can they _start _with mutts? A shiver moves through me, if they have mutts now what else might be coming?

I stare at the screen as Alice shimmies out of her sleeping bag and puts it away. She crouches high in the tree and stares down into the darkness below. There are more and more screeches now, dozens of them, some very far away but some are frighteningly close. There is one scream in particular, one high wailing scream that I can hear coming closer and closer. Alice pulls out her knife and holds it at the ready, but I don't know what good that will do her in a tree. There is a rustling below her and suddenly someone comes into view, or more accurately _something._ The creature is standing at about four foot seven, with skin as pale as moonlight and wide human blue eyes. Her light brown hair hangs in pigtails on either side of her head, and when Alice see's her she lets out a shuddering breath. "That's not Kenzie, that's _not_ Kenzie!" She whispers to herself again and again, jamming her eyes shut as the creature's head snaps up, her eyes searching the trees.

It cannot speak, but the creature goes to open its mouth as if it intends to. Behind those sweet Cupid's bow lips, however, is a set of pointed jagged teeth, and Alice clings to her tree. "You're not Kenzie!" She yells, and the creature tilts its head. By the look of the monster, and the way Alice is reacting to it, I can only assume that Kenzie is her little sister. I come to this discovery just as the screen cuts to the image of Darren running towards a mutt that looks suspiciously like his very pregnant girlfriend.

"Emmi! Emmi what are you doing here?" He calls to her, but the mutt just stands there.

"No, Darren! No!" I yell at the television, wishing there were some way I could communicate with him. The mutt holds her arms open and Darren sweeps her up, holding her tightly to him.

"There has to be some mistake, you can't be here." He says brokenly, his hand automatically going to her stomach. The camera has the perfect view of the creature where it rests it's head on his shoulder, her eyes poised on his neck. She opens her mouth to reveal the same shark like teeth Alice's mutt had, I lean forward.

"No Darren, run! Kill her!" I yell; jumping as Cinna takes the spot beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I hardly take notice of him, though; all I can think is that Peeta would know of a way to get a message to him. My big strong tribute was going to die in the first night, I was handed the perfect specimen and I couldn't even save him! Peeta would have been able to, Peeta would have brought them home, I only bring back coffins!

Two things happen at once, a Cannon goes off in the distance and Darren steps away from the mutt, putting quite the distance between them. I can see in his eyes that he is figuring it out. I tilt my head in confusion, how? "Something's wrong." He says slowly, eyeing the mutt scrutinizing. "You don't… You don't _smell_ right. Emmi always smells… well… not like _that_." Hope rises in my chest and I nod my head.

"Yes!" I call out, but of course he can't hear me.

The mutt looks at him with a small smile, but when she pulls back her lips to widen it he jumps, his eyes planted on the teeth. "You're a mutt!" He growls, pulling out his mace. "A mutt wearing _my _Emmi's face!" The mutt lets out a long loud screech, and Darren lunges forward, silencing it with a blow to the head. For a moment I'm shocked, I would have never imagined Darren would be capable of killing something that looked so much like his beloved Emmi. He turns his back on the body as it breaks into dust, falling into cracks in the earth. With a grunt he returns to his tent, and I have a feeling he will be safe tonight. No one will come looking for him, not with their own mutts to deal with, and I doubt he will have anything else to worry about tonight either. The Game Makers wouldn't want to give all their secrets away in the first night.

When the screen cuts back to Alice it shows that she has scampered higher up the tree, but the Mutt below simply stays below, circling and screeching and clawing at the trunk. It's obvious that the creature isn't smart enough to figure how to climb, but Alice took higher ground just to be careful. "Wait till you see the things people are coming up with as merchandise for this game." Cinna says as he pulls me closer. "I think the worst I saw was a locket with a picture of a tribute of your choice on one side and their smiling mutt on the other." I shudder as a fresh wave of disgust washes over me. The things the people of the Capitol do and wear never ceases to astonish me. It hurts to think that I will soon become one of them.

Alice rocks in the tree, her hands clamped over her ears and tears streaming down her face. She is muttering something furiously under her breath, but there isn't a microphone close enough to pick up her muttering. Her tiny lips move so slightly and fast it's impossible to read them, but judging by the cadence of them I can imagine what she is saying. _Not real. Not real. Not real._ I imagine it's a mantra in her mind right now. _Not real. Not real. Not real._ How I wish that could be true. Suddenly the phone on the other side of the room rings, and I jump. An Avox crosses the room silently and picks it up before making her way to the couch and holding it to me. I take it skeptically, who could be wishing to pledge money right at this moment?

"Hello?" I ask, and there is the sound of fumbling on the other line.

"Who's the man?" A drunken voice slurs, and a faint smile crosses my face. "N' don't lie to me, Katniss, I know Snow's got something to do with this!" Haymitch belches loudly, and I push my hair away from my face.

"It's nice to hear from you too, Haymitch." My first two years as Mentor Haymitch had accompanied me to the Games to teach me how to help my tributes, but after the second one I had told him to go home and stay there. It is astonishing, really, but after he no longer had to make his annual trips to the Capitol his drinking lessened greatly. Sure, he will still drink on a regular basis but it is much less astonishing to see him stone cold sober now. During the Games, however, he will be blazingly drunk, whether he is in the Capitol or home in Twelve. Some things never change.

"Stop stalling." I hear the sound of a bottle falling over and Haymitch curses. "After your boy smashed that Mutt in the head they put on a Commercial advertising some new game show of theirs where people will be polling on who they think your betrothed is." I hear him take a big gulp of what I imagine is white liquor. "So who is he? It's not Cinna, is it? Tell me it's not Finnick!" I shake my head and laugh, astonished that even Haymitch has realized what is going on between Cinna and I, even if he didn't seem to know the depth of it.

"No, it's neither of them." I say, my eyes still plastered to the screen which now shows an Alice that has fallen asleep. The Mutt below circles the tree, swiping at the trunk and making soft keening sounds.

"Then who?" I glance at Cinna and he tightens his grip on me.

"I…" I falter. How can I tell him that Snow has arranged this all? How can I tell him that I have been sold? I swallow the lump in my throat; anyone could be listening in on this call. "It's a secret." I say carefully, and Haymitch must catch my drift, because the string of curses he mutters is long and colorful.

"I'm going to have to listen to your mother yelling for weeks!" Haymitch moans, and I actually laugh. I have heard that my mother has taken to visiting Haymitch on occasion, but I had doubted it was much of a social call. After all, she had told me she was worried about his liver, what with his indulgence.

"I am very sorry for your misfortune." I mutter sarcastically, and Haymitch grunts.

"Welcome to the wonderful work of being a Victor." He growls, and I can't help but wonder if Snow ever approached Haymitch with such a request. I have seen videos of Haymitch's Game once before, and he had been quite handsome in his youth. It had been slightly unsettling to see just how much he had resembled Gale when he was young. Would it be so surprising if some old Capitol woman had been taken with him? I imagine many of them had lined up for his attention, just like women did for Finnick. Perhaps his drinking had driven them away; perhaps that was the point of his drinking. "We'll think of something." Haymitch says almost incomprehensibly, and I imagine he does it on purpose.

"I hope so." I say just as softly and he sighs.

"Well, congratulations. I wish you and your _Fiancée_ a world of happiness." He says with mocking excitement for anyone who happens to be listening, and I laugh softly. That is Haymitch, down to the bone, and I'm pretty sure the only reason he hasn't been killed for half the things he says is because people think he is too drunk to know any better. He knows better, of course, but he also knows how to work a crowed. It had been one of his first lessons for me as a Mentor. "I'll take an extra shot for you, kid." He mumbles, and I laugh.

"Yeah, well how will you know which is the extra one?" He laughs mockingly.

"Shut up." He says before the line goes dead. I shake my head and hang up the phone. That is always how our conversations end, I don't think I've ever heard the man say goodbye before in my life, and I take comfort in that. In the world I live in goodbye's are to permanent, they mean leaving and never coming back. I wouldn't mind if Haymitch never said goodbye, if nothing else in my life is constant he is better than nothing.

"Haymitch checking up on you?" Cinna asks as I look up at the Television, the screen has split in two, one half showing a sleeping Alice and the other showing Darren's tent. I allow myself to relax into Cinna, for the moment they are safe. None of the dots on the screen are moving, they are all too busy dealing with their own mutts to go looking for other tributes.

"Mhmm." I hum as I close my eyes, if I can steal only a couple hours of sleep it will do me some good. Alice and Darren will need me to be at the top of my game, just as they are, if they have any hope of surviving. A simply mistake from exhaustion could mean death for the both of them. And as much as I didn't like have someone else's life in my hands that is simply how it must be. It is a horrible responsibility. Cinna glances over at the Avox in the room before kissing the top of my head. It isn't as if she can tell anyone what she sees, anyways. Besides, I'm sure Cinna is on the list of potential husbands the Capitol has in mind for me, right behind Finnick.

"Catch a few hours of sleep if you can, Kat." He whispers into my hair. "I'll wake you if anything happens." I shake my head against his shoulder.

"You don't have to sit here watching them, that's not your job." I yawn. "You go sleep." He laughs and kisses my head once more.

"My job is to make sure you look your best, and you will be greatly hindering my job if you are too tired to look presentable." He stands slowly and pulls me up with him. "Bed time, Kat." He says as he pats my bottom. I hiss but make my way over towards the cot anyways. If there is anyone I trust to keep an eye on my tributes while I sleep it is Cinna.

"Wake me if anything happens, anything at _all._" I demand, and Cinna responds by pushing me down onto the cot, pulling the blanket from its place folded at the end of the cot up to cover me.

"Of course I will, Kat." He says as he brushes his lips against mine quickly. "Goodnight. I love you." He whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Night, Cinna." I murmur against a yawn, and he leans down to press his lips against my forehead before taking his spot on the couch. I pull the blanket up around my shoulders as I listen to the soft sounds of the Arena. Even keening of the Mutt below slowly transforms into simple background music, and it only takes a few moments for me to drift off into a very light sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

By morning light the mutts are gone, but the fog has settled in. It crept over the mountains like a slow tidal wave, covering everything in a thick gray blanket. I curse under my breath as Alice slowly awakens in the tree; she is above the fog line in the open air. You can see it in her eyes, for a moment she's not quite sure where she is, or why she is in a tree, but she comes to terms with it in a moment, and she quickly hides the dread that takes place of the confusion on her face. Carefully she packs her things and lowers herself down into the fog, by the time her feet touch the ground there are already beads of water clinging to her hair.

"Great." I mumble to myself over the cup of coffee someone has placed in my hand. It is black and free of sugar, which the people of the Capitol are astonished I enjoy. I take a sip of the dark bitterness, watching as Alice turns in each direction, looking for something.

"Find water." She mutters to herself, and I suddenly remember my own first days in the arena, and the horrible blinding thirst I had encountered. I look up at the map in the corner, she won't have much to worry about, this landscape is dotted with small ponds and rivers. I hope she's smart enough to choose a river over stagnant water, but thirst can always impede on a person's judgment. With a short sigh she starts in a northern direction, and I wonder if she notices she is moving ever so slightly downhill. If she does she doesn't say anything about it.

The screen suddenly changes to find Darren crawling out of his tent; much like a bear would emerge from his cave. He doesn't seem at all fazed by the fog, but then again nothing ever seems to really faze Darren. He shoves all his things back into his packs a little less neatly than Alice had and begins walking, and as I glance at the mini map I realize he is on a collision course with another red dot, the boy from One. I sit back in my seat slightly, trying to recall the boy. He is seventeen, I believe, but only slightly smaller than Darren himself. He is quick as lightening and clever as well. I furrow my eyebrows, what is he doing out there alone? Why isn't he with the other Careers? By the look of their movements they will meet any moment now, as the boy from One started been hours before Darren had woken up.

The fog will keep them from seeing each other until they are nearly on top of each other, but I hope the boy from One doesn't hear Darren first. I try to remember his name, tapping my lip with my index finger. It had been something ridiculous, as all District One names are. Brilliance, that is his name! I come to this realization just as both Brilliance and Darren step into the same clearing, neither of them having heard the other until they were scarcely twenty feet apart. For a moment neither says a thing, and I am glad Darren decided to walk with his mace in one hand and his dagger in the other. Brilliance, however, is empty handed. It is obvious from the look on his face that he wasn't anticipating meeting anyone today, let alone Darren. A small smirk covers Brilliance's face, but Darren doesn't move.

"That was my cousin you killed yesterday." He says slowly, taking a step closer to Darren. "Carot, you snapped her neck." He squares himself off to Darren, and anyone else in the arena would be filled with fear. Darren, however, looks as if he hardly even registers Brilliance is there at all.

"Your cousin is named after a vegetable?" Darren asks with an arched brow. "Isn't that something parents in District Eleven would do?" The smirk on Brilliance's face falls as his lip twitches in irritation.

"It's the grade of a diamond." Brilliance hisses, but Darren shrugs his shoulders.

"It's an orange vegetable." Without another word Brilliance rushed towards Darren, and I can't help but wonder what in the world has gotten into that Career's head, you never rush an opponent, everyone knows that. With ease Darren side steps him and sinks his dagger into his stomach. Brilliance's mouth opens in an astonished 'O', and Darren pulls the dagger out. "Sorry about your cousin, but I've got a baby to get home to." With that he brings his mace down on the back of Brilliance's head, and the boy crumbles to the ground. The cannon fires and the phones on the other side of the room begin ringing off their hooks. Both of the tributes from District One have been killed within the first two days by the same boy, I don't believe anything like that has ever happened before.

"I've got a pledge for four thousand!" One of the phone monitors calls, typing it into the computer in front of her. The number appears in the top left corner of the screen.

"I've got ten thousand over here!" A man yells excitedly, punching it into his own computer. The number before me is edited, and I smirk. Fourteen thousand in the second day, at this rate I just might be able to get Darren his pick axe. Things continue this way for hours, people calling and calling to pledge their money to Darren. By lunch time the pot has jumped up to Fifty Thousand, and I know I will be able to get Darren some lifesaving things.

I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees, covering my mouth as I watch Darren walking through the forest. He has now killed four tributes; he is in the lead for most kills. Two days, four children, he is unstoppable and that is what I am afraid of. I imagine Seneca Crane in the Arena Room right now, planning something devious for him. They always try to take down the unstoppable ones; it makes for more interesting television. I run my hands over my face; they should be safe for now. Darren killed Brilliance, and Alice found water. The Capitol should be entertained enough, I doubt they will be flooding the Arena or setting it on fire today. So I stand, stretching my back as I look at the other in the room. "I'm going for a walk, if anything happens find me." I say to no one in particular as I make my way towards the door, stepping into the brilliant sunlight of the court yard.

I shield my eyes for a moment as I step through the door and close it behind me. I hadn't even noticed how dark it had been in there. I stretch as I walk, I won't have much time to myself so I intend on getting out all the cramps in my muscles while I can. My exercise is stopped short, however, when my eyes fall on Cinna sitting on a metal bench in the middle of the court yard with his head in his hands. I tilt my head to the side, to be showing his emotions out in public is so unlike him my stomach begins knotting. I feel dread grab me, whatever has happened must be horrible to have him in such a state. I rush towards him and drop myself onto the bench beside him; he doesn't even look at me. "Cinna?" I ask, and he cringes at the sound of my voice. "Cinna, what's wrong?" He shakes his head and I touch his shoulder.

"I just got off the phone with President Snow." Cinna whispers and my blood turns to ice in my veins. "He asked me, personally, to design your wedding gown." For a moment I don't say anything, what in the world can I say? Part of me wants to believe that Snow had picked him to be cruel, that he somehow knows about Cinna and I's relationship and is punishing him, but in all reality it is probably much simpler, much less devious. There isn't a single stylist in the Capitol better than Cinna, no one can even compete. My wedding will be the event of the century, or so people are claiming, so Snow would want me in the most stunning gown possible. Who better to create a stunning gown than the man who made me the girl on fire?

"I'm sorry." I don't know what else to say, but Cinna simply sits up and pushes his brown hair back. He turns those sea green eyes on me and I can see the wall, the mask he puts up whenever he's feeling something he doesn't want anyone, not even me, to see.

"Don't worry about it, Kat." He says with a smile as he pats me knee. "I'll be sure to make it the most amazing garment I've ever created." He grins and kisses my cheek before standing and walking away with tight ridged steps. I want him to stay, to talk to me about everything that is happening and how we will fix this. I want him to help me find a way out, I want him to hold me, I want to call out to him but I let him walk away instead. Peeta was always good with words, he could make anyone do anything, I hardly ever have the words to say anything at all. I sit there on that metal bench for at least ten minutes, just staring into nothing. I wish Snow had told me which Capitol pig had bought my life, because at the moment I would have a few choice words for him. Perhaps, once we were married, I could simply annoy him until he wanted nothing more to do with me. Then again, that would probably end horribly for my family, if not for all of District Twelve. It's not hard to imagine Snow taking his anger out on all of them should I not prove to be completely obedient.

I laugh bitterly, looking down at my hands. Obedient, like a dog. I sit when I'm told, I speak, I fetch, and when necessary I roll over. It's sickening, it is absolutely disgusting, but what else can I do? Snow keeps me on a very short leash, dangling all the things I love in front of me. It would be so easy for him to take all of it away. What little I have can easily be destroyed, and he knows it. Everyone in Panem thinks the life of a Victor is an escape from poverty, a blessed life, but in reality it is slavery. They take everything that makes you you and crushes it beneath their boots. The mold you, pulling and twisting and pushing until you come out sparkling, shining, _Capitol. _

"Miss Everdeen," a voice behind me says excitedly and I turn to find a young Capitol girl with bright yellow hair behind me. She must be younger than I am; I wonder how she landed such a _prestigious _position. Fetching me is very high up the corporate ladder, after all.

"Did something happen?" I ask, and she nods with a bright smile, a bright _blue _smile.

"Alice just stumbled upon the boy from Four!" I jump up and push my way past the girl, nearly knocking her off her feet. I enter the room just in time to hear Alice scream.

I snap my eyes to the screen, the boy from Four has left a long cut on her arm but she is out of his reach. "Get down from there!" He growls, but Alice shakes her head, trying to clutch the branch she is on and her bleeding arm at the same time. "I can just come up there, you know." He mocks, but Alice retreats higher into the tree.

"Then come up here." She snaps bravely but I can see the tears in her eyes that he cannot. "Aren't you supposed to be with the other Careers anyway?" She growls, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Not much of a Career pack this year." He states, and I furrow my eyebrows, no Career pack? It is completely possible that he is trying to trick her but when I glance at the mini map I see that there really is no cluster of red dots moving through the Arena. "After that boy from your District, the big stupid one, killed Carot Brilliance took off after him and, let's face it, none of us really want to have to deal with that monster." He says as he leans against the tree, looking up at Alice with a slick smile. It almost makes me want to walk into the District Four viewing room and smack Finnick, he's obviously been giving the boy pointers.

"So where's the girl from yours, then?" Alice asks, obviously trying to keep him talking. She's trying to think of a plan, but even I can't see one that will help her escape.

"Flow and I have never really gotten along." He says with a shrug. "We split up right away. What's your name again?" I glare at the screen; he knows her name, any decent Career would be sure to know the names of his competition.

"Alice."

"Well, Alice, why don't you come down and we'll see if we can make an… arrangement." His smile is deadly, and I pray Alice isn't stupid enough to fall for his charms.

"Not likely." She replies quickly, and I grin. As long as she stays up high he won't be able to get her. He's too bulky, and she's too quick. She'll be able to move through the forest from branch to branch with no problem, but I doubt he will have the same luck. The boy, whose name I think is Rider, sighs and shakes his head.

"That's a shame." He says as he surveys the tree. "I guess I'll have to come up-"

"Hey Rider, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" A voice from behind a tree growls, and I narrow my eyes in confusion. Darren steps out, his weapons in his hands. Rider takes one look at Darren and takes off in the opposite direction. Darren doesn't even glance up Alice's tree before hauling off after him. What in the world was he doing there? Alice had been far ahead of almost all the others, and yet now they were suddenly all converging on each other? I move closer to the map and take a closer look at it, usually by now the Tributes would all be spread out over a great distance. I touch the screen and rotate the picture, causing the minimap to swivel on a fixed point. It takes me a moment, but when I notice it I hiss.

"Those bastards." I turn the map a few other directions just to make sure what I'm seeing is right. When I noticed Alice was moving downhill I failed to notice that the entire Arena was sloped downward, though the sides are at an angle like a funnel. All the tributes will naturally want to walk in the same direction towards the same fixed point. Just outside of the trees, at the bottom of the funnel, is a large open area. They want the final show down to be there, in that grassless stone area, and it is easy to see why. Jutting out in the center of the circle is a great stone pillar with large doors all the way around it. That is where the mutts are coming from, and when they all get there I can only imagine they will open the flood gates and let all the mutts into the Arena at once.

This year the blood bath at the Cornucopia wasn't enough for the game makers. They want this game to be quick and gruesome, and some vain voice in the back of my head whispers that it is because Snow wants the Capitol to spend less time on the games and more time on me. With the speed in which this game is progressing I'll be surprised if it lasts more than a week.


	10. Chapter 10

As the sun begins to set I felt anxiety set it. With my new revelation and the occurrences of today I am more on edge than I have been so far in the game. To think that they are purposely trying to end the games swiftly is a foreign concept, and I find myself struggling to come to terms with it. All year round the Capitol longs for the games, they pine for the chance to watch children kill each other brutally. The Hunger Games are one of the Capitol's favorite pass times, so how can Snow justify ending it quickly? How can Seneca Crane get away with such a thing? My eyes catch the sparkling rock on my finger and I grimace, they can get away with it by promising the Capitol something more exciting to look forward to. The Hunger Games come once a year every year without fail, how often does the Capitol get the chance to ponder over my potential marriage? Perhaps by denying something the Citizens of the Capitol love they are making something else even bigger, even better. I swallow the lump in my throat, by denying them the games they make the pressure on me that much heavier, they will need something else to occupy their time and minds, and what will happen to District Twelve if I don't deliver everything they want and more?

I curse under my breath, therein lies the truth. In ending the games sooner Snow has ensured that I stick to his course and do as he says. The people will be disappointed in the games, most likely, and will look to the next source of enthrallment with hopeful anticipation. If I don't fulfill their need to be entertained the consequences could be devastating. I shake my head as Alice scurries up a tree, I can worry about the loss of what little freedom I have later, but for now I must focus on the task at hand. She's a little closer to the bottom of the funnel than I would like and Darren has set his tent up by a stream and crawled inside just as the last rays of sunlight burn away the fog and disappears behind the mountains.

I sit back, I hope silently that the mutts will not come back tonight, but I know they will. If they are making necklaces featuring the Tribute and their mutt then the Game Makers must intend on making them a prominent feature in this game. Cinna settles himself beside me, his arm around my shoulders as he stares at the screen. He hasn't said a word to me since he told me he would be designing my wedding gown, but at least he had come back from his work bench. I had been afraid he would stay there until the end of the games. I don't want to even imagine what facing the rest of this game along would have been like.

I watch as Alice prepares herself for the night, wrapping her sleeping bag around her instead of crawling into it, and I know why. She knows her sister's mutt will come back just as well as I do, and she buries her head down into her knees. I draw my own knees up against my chest, mirroring her action. I can't imagine what it must be like, to see the face of a loved one on the body of something trying to kill you. It had been bad enough when the mutt with Peeta's eyes had been snapping at me, but if it had his entire face, his whole body- a shudder moved through me. Something like that is unimaginable, and I can't help but wonder which sick Game Maker came up with that golden idea. If I ever met them I would definitely have a few choice words for them, which may or may not end with my fist making the acquaintance of their face.

I twitch slightly as the keening begins at, at first it is just a soft whisper on the wind, carried from very far away, but within moments it is closer and closer. I circle my legs with my arms, wondering just how fast these things can move. Only moments ago it had sounded miles away, and yet now it was as if it was just outside Alice's clearing. Alice jams her eyes shut and rocks herself gently back and forth. I know what she is thinking, so long as she doesn't look at the mutt it won't bother her, after all it is only a mutt wearing her sisters skin. She is muttering to herself when the mutt comes into view, her wide eyes blinking in the bright moonlight. She begins circling her tree slowly, pawing at the trunk as she stares up into the tree, searching for Alice. I begin biting my nails, but Cinna takes my hand to stop me. Alice covers her eyes and trembles as the mutt claws at the base of the tree, the soft cooing sound ends as the mutt's eyes finds Alice.

"Alice?" The mutt calls, and Alice's eyes fly open. The mutt tilts its head from side to side, its small lips turns down at the corners. "Alice?" It asks again, and tears glimmer in the moon light as they fall down my tribute's face. "Alice!" The mutt claws at the base of the tree, and I'm surprised to see chunks of bark being ripped from the trunk. The mutt thrashes as she tried to get to the girl above her. "Alice!" She yells, her pointed yellow teeth showing as she growls. "Alice! Alice! Alice!" She cries ever louder, and Alice jams her fingers into her ears.

"You're not real." Alice sobs. "You're not Kenzie."

"Alice!" The mutt screams again and again, beating at the base of the tree. "Alice!" I feel my own heart breaking in my chest as Alice rests her head against the trunk, her cheeks stained with tears as she cradles her crudely bandaged arm against her chest. I frown despite myself, if by some miracle Alice makes it out alive I know she will never look at her sister the same way again. She will always see the mutt and hear it screaming her name. She will have nightmares for years. Alice rubs her damaged arm furiously, and I see blood seep through the white linen cloth. I wonder if she is reopening the wound on purpose, using the pain to keep herself focused, to keep herself sane. I chew on my lip, by opening it again she is risking infection. I could send her antibiotics that would heal her wound in a matter of hours with how much money has been pledged to Darren but I can't. I can't risk spending the money on her in case he ends up needing it. It's horrible, but it is how it must be. Just as Haymitch chose me I am choosing Darren.

The screen shifts and I find Darren is already asleep in his tend just as Emmi's mutt enters the clearing, her stomach swollen and her eyes wide. "Darren?" She calls, and instantly Darren's eyes fly open as if he hadn't been snoring only moments before. For a moment there is such a look of pain in them I am shocked that he is capable of such emotions. That pain, however, is quickly replaced by rage. He throws his tent flap open with his dagger in his hand and murder in his eyes. "Darren!" She cries and reaches for him, but Darren raises his blade.

"So her face wasn't enough?" He snarls. "You had to steal her voice too?" He takes a few steps forward, and the Mutt pulls back its lips in a smile, he lets out a hiss as his eyes fall on her teeth.

"Darren-"

"Shut up!" He takes a few steps closer to her, and she opens her arms to him. "You're not Emmi, you're not my girl." Even though he knows she is not his love there are still tears in his eyes. "And that is not my baby." I can see the way his shoulders tremble and I lean forward in my seat. A cannon fires in the distance, quickly followed by another. The bangs break Darren from his daze, for he lunged forward and slashes the mutt's throat. The blood that pours out of the wound is bright blue, as opposed to red, and this seems to disgust Darren most of all. Before she has even stopped twitching he is back within his tent, away from the prying eyes of Panem, and I have a feeling he is showing all the pain he had hidden in the open within the safe confides of his tent. I'm proud he held it inside, seeing Emmi in such a way was no doubt doing psychological damage that would never be undone. I wonder if he will ever wake up next to Emmi in the middle of the night and be afraid of her.

Before the sun rises the Cannon fires twice more, four dead in one night. I can't help but wonder if the Mutts' voices lured a few tributes away from their precautions. A part of me is actually anxious to see the recap, curiosity eating away at my insides as I wonder what forum the other tributes' mutts have taken. I lean back into the chair as a great wave of disgusted washes over me. Anxious? Have I already become so like the Capitol monsters who enjoy watching children die? To distract myself I lean against Cinna and close my eyes, ticking off the tributes in my head. While I don't know which four died tonight I do know that there are only eleven left. I let out a long breath, it isn't even the third day and yet half of the tributes are gone!

What else can I believe other than this is all Snow's doing? The only other game I can recall where tributes dropped this quickly was the one that took place in a frozen waste land where they turned to ice in their sleep. The game is moving so quickly the Careers didn't even have time to form their pack, and I can't squander the money I'm getting on food and other small things for them, I must wait for an emergency. That or the ability to buy Darren a pick axe, then again he seems to be getting along just fine without it.

Alice doesn't wake with the sunlight that peaks over the opposite mountains, to wake up she would have had to fall asleep. She simply rubs her face with shaking hands and climbs down from her perch, taking a little longer than she normally wound. She hikes her bag up on her shoulder and begins walking downhill, and I wish there was some way for me to tell her to go in the other direction. I remember Haymitch sending me food as a way of telling me to be more romantic with Peeta in my own game, but as I can't waste money on her, I can't even figure out a system like that.

She is hardly walking for more than a mile before something _exciting_ happens. She goes to put her foot down in a seemingly normal place but freezes. I lean forward in my seat, my hair hanging around my head in messy tendrils. Cinna tries to straighten my hair but I slap his hands away. Alice crouches down on her hands and knees and for a moment I wonder what she is doing, but then she lifts a leaf from the ground to reveal a thin net beneath. She sucks in her breath. "A pit." She whispers, just loud enough for the microphones to catch. "And I bet there are stakes at the bottom…" I grin; she's showing the viewer's how clever she is. She stands and places the leaf in the exact same place she had found it and skirts the edge of the hole carefully before continuing on her way, her eyes downcast as she searches for more pits.

I can tell by the way she is rubbing her stomach continuously that she is hungry, but she doesn't have the advantages I had. She doesn't know how to hunt, for forage, or even be hungry for that matter. After a while she stops at a tree and brings out her knife, tearing off a piece of bark and sticking it in her mouth. She chews it slowly, and I can see the pained expression on her face. It gives her something to put in her mouth, but it will not sate the hunger. I frown, could I just spare her one loaf of bread, one silver parachute to keep her alive for just a little longer? I shake my head, I can't do that. I can't be weak.

Haymitch had told me that this was the hardest part, watching the tribute you didn't chose die. You see the hope in their eyes as they wait for help, as they wait for the silver that will save their life. He said they watch for it all the way to the end, for they can't believe that they have been abandoned, they can't imagine that the person who had helped them for a week has left them defenseless. Why give them all of that advice if they were going to be left to their own defenses when it mattered most? When the screen switches to Darren skinning a rabbit I am almost relieved. I can't stand the hungry look in Alice's eyes, I can't stand the hope as she looks to the skies, waiting for the aid that will not come.

I lace my hand in Cinna's as I watch him work, and while he is messy and sloppy with this rabbit he gets the work done without completely ruining the meat. The fog has set in once more so Darren risks building a small fire, just large enough to roast the meat slowly. As he waits for the meet to cook he plays with a small ring he has always kept on a chain around his neck, a token from home. I never asked him what it was and now I wish I had, though it is pretty easy to guess. The ring is far to smell to fit on any finger of his, so I can only imagine it is Emmi's, something she gave him to keep her close in the Arena. He brings the small metal band to his lips and closes his eyes. For a moment he sits like that, breathing softly before he turns the meat and becomes stone once more. The phones on the other side of the room begin ringing as rich bleeding hearts call to help bring a young boy in love home to his sweetheart.

I turn my eyes to the mini map and smile softly. The other nine dots are far from either of my tributes, and I let out a breath I hadn't even noticed I'd been holding. At least for today they will be safe. Unless Alice falls into a hole or Darren chokes on the rabbit meat they will both live to see the night, or so I hope. Cinna must notice my realization for he clears his throat. "They both seem to be doing well." He says softly, and I nod.

"Alice is doing better than I expected." I had expected her to be the first to die, but I don't say that. I should have known better, of course. She is so like Rue, and Rue had made it all the way to the final ten. Cinna nods as well, and I can't help but shift awkwardly. Everything about this conversation is awkward, it doesn't have the usual easy flow of our talks and even though I know he is trying his best I can't help but believe that things might be better if we didn't try to talk at all. Cinna glances back to the citizens on the other side of the room and drops his voice down to a whisper.

"I've been thinking about our… Situation." He says against my ear, and I feel my heart quicken in my chest.

"Oh?" Is all I can bring myself to say.

"Yes. What if… what if we ran away, Kat?" He grips my hand a little tighter. "I could get us a hover craft, we could swing by the District and get your mother and sister and-"

"And go where, Cinna?" I murmur back, suddenly going back to the day of my reaping and the conversation I had had with Gale. He had proposed much the same thing, and I wonder what life would be like if I had agreed. If I had run away into the wilderness with him I would have never fallen in love with Peeta, and for some reason I find it hard to imagine myself without this gaping hole within me. I wouldn't have nightmares; I wouldn't know what it is like to take a human life. I would still be the same girl I had been before the reaping, and I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Regardless, I can't help but long for it.

"I don't know, somewhere, anywhere." He runs his thumb across the back of my hand. "Somewhere we can be together." I imagine it for a moment, Cinna and I somewhere outside of Snow's reach, somewhere where I don't have to worry about the eyes that always watch me. It is a dream to beautiful to even dream of.

"There is no where we could go that they couldn't find us." I whisper. "We would never stop running."

"Would that be so bad?" There is desperation in his voice. "We could be together, Kat. We-"

"We would be in danger every moment of every day." I shake my head. "They wouldn't simply let us vanish quietly, Cinna. They would hunt us down with everything they have. At least if I stay here and… and do what I have to do I know you will be safe." I turn sideways to look at him, but his face is void of all emotion. One again he is a rock sitting beside me, and I wonder if this is what he sees when he looks at me, his eyes begging me to love him.

"What is the point of being safe, then?" He asks as he turns his eyes back to the screen. "What is the point of even being alive if you-" I cover his lips with my fingertips, and for the briefest of moments my touch softens his stony façade. The walls are back up almost instantly.

"Don't talk like that." I say in a low voice. "I've lost enough, I can't imagine losing you to. I'd die." He takes a deep breath and pulls me a little closer.

"Then I guess I have no choice but to behave." I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what he had in mind when they wheel in lunch and the room is suddenly alive with movement. Cinna stands and helps me up as well, and once again we are nothing but a stylist and a mentor. After all, it is the safest things we can be.


	11. Chapter 11

"So then I said to the Minister, 'sir you really must put your pants back on and give me back my cat.'" I laugh along with the green skinned Capitol man in front of me, a bright trilling sound that seems to affect them the most. I wipe an imaginary tear away with the hand that isn't holding a glass of champagne.

"You really do tell the greatest stories, Maximus." I tell him, though it is a bare faced lie. While he has been staring at my mostly exposed chest I have been staring at the two screens labeled 'District Twelve' mounted on the wall. Throughout the games a multitude of these little shindigs will be held to ring in sponsors. Just as the parties during their training. Usually I wouldn't waste my time at these stupid parties but Darren needs all the money he can get. If I can swing it he won't have to worry about a single thing until the end of the games, well other than the nine other tributes who want him dead. There is a real chance I can bring him home this year, and I'm not going to risk anything.

"Please," the lime skinned man purrs. "Call me Max." He says as he sips his champagne, his eyes falling to the rock on my finger. "So, Katniss, off the record, who is your mystery fiancé?" He asks with an excited lilt in his voice. I look back up at the screen, checking on my tributes once more.

"Sorry Max, but I'm not here about me and you know it." I say with a sly grin. I wonder what he would think if he knew that I had no idea who I was marrying, would he be shocked or even more intrigued?

"Oh dear, haven't you learned? It's always about you." He says with a wink before turning and walking away to speak to one of my secretaries. I see him pull a check book out of his wallet and let out a short sigh. Maximus is quite rich, but not nearly rich enough. Not for what I have planned.

"So I see you've got Maxi on board." Finnick says as he sneaks up behind me, his hand going to the small of my back. We both smile and wave at Capitol gossip mongers who quickly turn and whisper amongst themselves when they see our interaction. Nearly all of the Capitol is convinced Finnick is my fiancé.

"I could slap you." I mutter through teeth gritted in a smile. "With that shit your boy tried to pull on my girl." Finnick signs and nods his hand, his thumb stroking my back.

"Nothing personal, love, but the life of my boy means more to me than the life of yours." His eyes turn soft for a moment. "I want to bring him home just as badly as you want to bring yours home." I take another sip of my drink to stop myself from hissing.

"I know." I stare at the screen, watching as Darren cuts through the wilderness. "It's just easier-"

"To blame me than them." Finnick finishes, giving my back a short tap before ruffling his fingers through his hair. "Believe me, love. I know." We both watch with canned smiles as a Capitol women with skin stretched so tightly over her face she looks to be in a constant state of shock strides over to us and offers her hand to Finnick.

"Finnick Odair," she says with a flourish, but her voice sounds like sandpaper on a cat. "It's been so long."

"Too long, Camille." He says as he takes her hand and kisses it, she glances at me with mischievous eyes, as if she's waiting for me to get jealous or admit something. Instead I wave at an imaginary friend on the other side of the room and grin at Finnick.

"Well, I'll let you two catch up." I say with a smirk. "Do try to behave yourself, Finnick." I whisper loudly, and he laughs.

"Anything for you, my pet." He says before offering the woman his arm and leading her away. While I know it's not Finnick President Snow intends for me to marry -that would be far to kind of him, Finnick and I don't do much to try to quell the rumors. It is simply easier to let people believe what they want to believe before they start spreading ridiculous rumors, like I'm engaged to Haymitch, or something. I lean back against the refreshment table, my eyes glued to the screen as a man comes to stand beside me.

"Careful, sweetheart; wouldn't want you to stain that pretty dress of yours." Haymitch Abernathy says as he takes a swing from a flask he had hidden in his jacket pocket. For a moment I gape at him.

"Speak of the devil!" I laugh before making the awkward movement to hug him. Don't get me wrong, Haymitch and I have never been the hugging type but I am so relieved in this moment that I wrap one arm around him and give him the most awkward side hug of my life. Haymitch shakes his head and takes another drink. "What are you doing here?"

"Sounded like you needed a little help on the phone." He comments and I squint my eyes. "No one is meant to do this job alone, Kid." I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head.

"I can do just fine on my own." I say before snatching the flask out of his hand before it reaches his lips once more, if he really wants to be a help I can't spend my time babysitting his drunken ass. "And I haven't been a kid in a long time." I utter, and I begin to wonder just how much Haymitch has already had to drink, because something warms in his eyes, just for a moment, and then he looks down.

"You'll always be a kid to me…" He slurs before punching my arm lightly. I rub the spot as he waves to a man in a bright yellow suit and saunters off, and I wonder how he knew where I was, and that I needed his help.

Not that I do, of course, I can handle myself and my tributes just fine on my own. I play with a loose curl mindlessly as Alice crawls her way up into a tree. Something has been different about her since the mutts started talking; there is a vacancy in her eyes that frightens me. She moves, and eats, and does what she needs to do but it is obvious she is just going through the motions. I have the feeling that if she comes across another tribute she will be in big trouble. She simply doesn't seem all _there_.

Caught by a flash of movement my eyes traveled to another screen, where the boy from Two viciously attacks the last remaining tribute from Ten. I wince, the boy from ten is to slow, to scrawny, and to starved to really put up a fight against the powerhouse Career from Two. The only one I can imagine beating the boy is Darren, I look to the minimap and sigh in relief when I see that both of my tributes are quite far from the beast of the boy. "Quite a Tribute, if I do say so myself." A familiar voice croons, and I cringe. "Too bad your Darren took out Carat and Brilliance so early in the game, I'm sure they would have kept things interesting." I don't look up to see Gloss standing beside me, though I know he is looking at me. Since the day I met him there is something about the man I simply cannot stand.

"Must be strange for you, Gloss." I say with feign civility. "To have both of the Tributes from your district struck down while both of mine still stand." I say with a grin, finally turning to look at him. There is well hid murder in his eyes, but I see it none-the-less.

"Quite strange indeed." He says with a very forced smile. "I mean after my boy last year beheaded your tributes, both of them…" I glare at him, my arms shaking at my sides.

"Too bad those rabid wolves got to him before he could be claimed the winner." I hiss. "He would have made such a handsome Victor." I tilt my head to the side in false innocents. "Didn't he call out for him mother in the end? How… tragic." Normally I am not a cruel person but Gloss can simply bring out the best in me. He clamps his hand down on my shoulder, and while it may appear to be harmless I can feel myself buckling under the weight of his touch.

"You might want to watch out for tragedies soon to come, _Katniss."_ He hisses in my ear, his lips grazing it. "From what Brutus has told me his boy, Viktor, has a rather cruel streak." He tightens his grip on my shoulder and I wince. "Your little Alice better be careful." He releases my shoulder and stalks away, and I dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from chasing after him. What had he meant by that? Why was it Alice who had to watch out for him especially? I shaky my head, trying to appear gay once more as I realize there are eyes watching me again, as always.

"Gloss giving you much trouble?" I hear another voice call, and I roll my eyes, completely tired of having to deal with the other Mentors at the moment. Sometimes they are much worse than children. I turn to face Beetee with my arms crossed.

"Nothing I can't handle." I say with a forced smile. "You know how he can be, he's a sore loser." Beetee scoffs, but its obvious his attention isn't on me, but rather on the small contraption he is fiddling with in his hands.

"You've no idea, Miss Everdeen." Just as quickly as he came up to me he disappears back into the crowed and I shaky my head. The man is a nut job, a brilliant one, but a nut job. Unable to take any more of my fellow mentors I give Haymitch a quick wave and walk from the room as quickly as I can, excusing myself politely from the Capitol citizens vying for my attention. Once in the hall outside the Ballroom I lean against the wall, removing the dangerous stilettos Cinna had put me in and sighing. I straighten my silver gown carefully, trying not to look so disheveled in case any Citizens lurk in these lower halls.

I don't meet anyone, however, until I come to the elevator where an armed Peacekeeper nods at me and steps aside. How easy would it be for a hungry Citizen to waltz right up into our personal quarters were he not here? Still, I walk past him. It is not my long forgotten bed I seek, but the privacy of the District Twelve viewing room. There are only nine Tributes left, and every moment brings them closer and closer to the clearing. As soon as I find the correct door I step inside and slam it shut behind me, surprised to find someone already sitting on the couch. "Cinna?" I ask and he turns to look at me, a small glass of brandy in his hand.

"I finished the design of the beading for your bodice today, Kat." He says with a weak smile. "I've never created anything so beautiful." Carefully I gather my skirt in my hands and move to sit beside him, but he doesn't open his arms to me, or make any move to welcome me. "I keep imagining you in it, imagining you walking down an aisle to meet me waiting at the end." He lets out a bitter laugh. "I don't think I'll be able to attend your wedding. I think it might kill me." I put my hand on top of his; we both know he cannot miss it. All of Panem will be watching, and they will notice if my stylist is not in attendance. They always notice everything.

"If it will make you feel better I will trip on my way to the alter." I add in an attempt at humor, but Cinna simply shakes his head.

"And ruin my masterpiece?" He takes a swig of his drink. "Over my dead body, Kat." I turn my eyes to the screen, but there is really nothing to see. Both of my tributes have hunkered down for the night, and surprisingly the Mutts have yet to come out. I know that should have me very worried but at the moment I am nothing but relieved. Cinna places his cup on the coffee table and turns to look at me, and I notice that his eyeliner is smudged. I reach out to fix it only to find my hands are shaking too badly. To see the hurt in his eyes is more than I can bear. Cinna, who is always so steadfast and strong, breaks before me, and I am powerless to stop it, powerless to fix it, powerless to do anything but watch as my life unfurls. It's sickening.

He reaches his hands up and cups my face, his thumbs trailing over my cheekbones. "I love you, Kat. And I will find a way to fix this." He says as his hands slide to the back of my neck and pull me forward. Our lips meet but there is so much wrong with that kiss. There is no passion, only heart ache and defeat. He says he will find a way but he tastes of bitterness and alcohol. Still I move my lips against his and hold onto him tightly, trying to piece together a way in my mind to mend this broken life of mine. When the door creaks open we pull apart until it looks as if we were only whispering to each other, which would seem suspicious as we are alone in the room.

"I knew it was Cinna." Haymitch grumbles as he drops himself on the couch beside me, effectively squashing any romance that may have been in the room.

"I wish it was." I whisper, and the look in Haymitch's eyes pains me. While I hate to admit it Haymitch and I are family, in the most dysfunctional form of the word. We fight, and yell, and scream, and argue but I do care for the man, and at times he looks at me as if I am the daughter he never had the chance to have. I know better than to ever say such a thing out loud, because he would deny it and drink himself into oblivion to prove a point.

"I see." He says as he rubs his hands over his reddened face. He reaches into his lapel and pulls out a small envelope. "Twenty-thousand from an anonyms Patron." I snatch the envelope out of his hand and look at it in wonder.

"Twenty-thousand? How in god's name did you manage twenty-thousand?" I cry, but Haymitch just smirks.

"Let's just say I called in a favor from an old friend." I grin at him, my heart hammering in my chest. Twenty-thousand puts us nearly to one-hundred-thousand, which is the largest amount of money I've ever rallied for a single Tribute. It would seem as if the Capitol really is rooting for Darren. My victory, however, is short lived as my joy is derailed by a voice that cuts through Alice's domain. No one heard them coming, tonight they didn't make a sound. Alice's mutt simply stands beneath the tree, her eyes wide and a teddy bear held in her small hand.

"Alice, why won't you come down at play with me?"


	12. Chapter 12

The tears that stream down Alice's face seem to know no end. She quivers in the tree, sneaking peaks down at her little sister, or the beast made to look like her. "Alice, why don't you come down and play with me?" The Mutt stomps her little foot and Alice shakes her head.

"You're not Kenzie. You're not Kenzie." She weeps into her hands, but the mutt lets out a saddened cry.

"Of course I'm Kenzie!" She pleads. "When you left home you told me you would try your best to come home to me, but I came to help you!" She yells, but in the dim night light I can see the way her pointed teeth glint menacingly, and I'm sure Alice can see them too.

"How do you know that?" Alice asks as all the color drains from her face.

"Because I _am_ Kenzie, silly!" The little thing laughs as she moves closer to the trunk. "Now come down and play with me!"

"Go away!" Alice turns her face to the tree. "Go away, leave me alone!" The mutt that looks like Kenzie claws at the base of the tree.

"Don't you love me anymore, Allie?" It moans. "Why don't you love me?" Something snaps behind the creatures eyes. The sadness disappears as she begins wildly trashing against the trunk. "Why don't you love me, Allie? Why won't you play with me?" She screams as she beats her tiny fists against the tree.

"Please go away." Alice groans as she trembles.

"Why don't you love me?" The beast continues to howl. "Alice! Alice! Why won't you play with me!" She snarls as saliva dribbles down her chin. Alice has taken to probing at her injury again, and I lean forward in my seat.

"Stop that, Alice." I whisper under my breath. "Everyone is watching, stop it." Suddenly the mutt stops her thrashing and looks up into the tree, her face blank once more.

"Alice?" She calls in an even voice, and a chill runs down my spine. "If you won't come down, Alice, I'll have to come up." With that she places her teddy bear on the ground and grabs ahold of the bottom branch. After a moment of wiggling around she maneuvers herself on top of it and begins her ascent.

"No." Alice whispers, her eyes wide with bewilderment. "No, you can't climb! You can't come up here!" The creature continues to move towards my tribute. "No! Stop it! Go away!" The mutt sinks her teeth into the tree to hold her balance, taking out a large chunk as she removes her mouth from it.

"You're my sister; you're supposed to love me, Alice." The mutt says in a mad voice. "You told mom you'd always love me, always look after me. You're not looking after me, Alice." Alice draws her knife from her bag.

"Go away!" She screams. "You're not Kenzie!"

"I am!" The mutt's eyes turn from blue to entirely black as she moves closer and closer to Alice.

"No, you're a monster." Alice cries, holding the handle of her knife to her forehead as the creature's hand clamps down on her ankle.

"Come down and play with me!" Alice's eyes snap open, but there is something wrong in them, something broken. Rage fills every sweet inch of her face until the girl in the tree frightens even me.

"Fine!" Alice growls as she draws back her petite foot and slams it into the mutt's face, sending the creature sprawling down onto the leaf litter. The monster gasps for a moment as she tries to regain her breath, but she doesn't have long. In a second Alice is on top of her, the knife clenched in her hand. She stabs at the beast repeatedly, sinking the dagger into every inch of her she can reach. Blue ichor splatters Alice's clothes and face as she turns the mutt into a sloppy mess, and I just stare at the screen with my jaw hanging open and my eyes wide.

"You. Are. Not. Kenzie!" She screams with each strike over and over again, her face contorted in a mixture of pure hatred and insanity. She doesn't stop mutilating the beast until its body turns to ash that shimmers and sinks back into the earth, and even them she stabs at the ground four times more before stopping to breath. She sits there on the ground for a while, her chest heaving and her body covered in the mutt's blood. She wipes it away from her mouth with the back of her hand, and I know that she has broken. She has snapped, and there is no going back. Even if she makes it home she will never leave the Arena. She will be just like Annie. "Are you happy now?" She screams to no one, standing as she looks around. "Are you?" She yells so loud it disturbs a flock of Jabberjays in the tree next to her that call back her question over and over again.

"Are you? Are you? Are you? Are you? Are you? Are you? Are you?" They scream over and over again in Alice's voice, and she sinks to her knees, dropping her dagger on the ground as she covers her ears with her hands.

"Holy shit." Cinna breathes beside me, setting his brandy down. "I mean… Holy shit!" He exclaims as I cover my mouth with my hand.

"Yeah." I mutter behind my hand as I watch the girl tremble and shake. I wonder, for a moment, what is happening at the party. Surely everyone is staring at the screen, unsure what to make of the small girl who just viciously destroyed the image of her beloved little sister. I imagine Kenzie sitting on their thread bare couch at home staring at the screen with a face as pale as freshly fallen snow. There are certain things you simply cannot get over, and I don't think this is a bridge they will ever be able to really cross.

"Goddamn." Haymitch breaths as he runs his fingers through his hair. "I didn't think that kid had it in her." I nod my head in agreement. I don't think anyone in Panem knew she had it in her. I bet everyone is standing around the ball room in the livery, their hands clasped in excitement as they watch girl from Twelve as she has the most memorable mental breakdown of Hunger Game history. I shake my head once more, unable to really understand what just happened. The screen switches to Darren but he is already back in his tent, and it is eerily quiet outside. I take a deep breath; hopefully he didn't allow his mutt to say a word. I rub my hands over my face, I knew better than anyone just how cruel the Game makers could be, but this was low even for them.

"Wow." Cinna murmurs as he picks up his brandy once more and finishes it with a gulp. Suddenly the door to the room slams open and a girl with hot pink skin barges in.

"Katniss, you better come quick!" The girl yells before turning and running away, her heels making a bright _click click click_ sound as her feet hit the floor. As quickly as I can in my gown I stand and rush after her, not even bothering to put my heels back on as I make my way towards the ball room, and the sight I am met with is astonishing. For one thing nearly every rich Capitol citizen at this stupid party is standing around the District Twelve table, waving money and checks at my poor and flustered secretary.

"I'll handle this." Haymitch growls as he pushes his way behind the table, throwing an elbow or two_ accidently_ as he shoves the girl out of the way and takes control of the madness. I am relieved he is on my team. The second thing that astonishes me is that Finnick and Gloss are on the other side of the room, and Brutus is desperately trying to stop the two from killing each other. Some of the other Mentors are helping as well, Cashmere is clinging to her brother's back while Johanna Mason grabs a handful of Finnick's hair to stop him, but the two still struggle to get towards each other. I pull my dress up around my knees and run over towards the fray.

"What the hell's going on?" I yell as I step between the two and at the sight of me they both calm down, and while Finnick is looking at me in horror Gloss simply shrugs his sister off and smirks.

"I was just talking to Finnick here; you know how we male Victors are." Gloss says with a final shrug as his sister grabs ahold of his arm and pulls him away from the others. I turn to Finnick as Brutus and the others slink away, and I narrow my eyebrows as I try to piece together what I missed, what could have made Finnick snap? His chest heaves as he fists his hands in his hair, and I feel my heart race.

"Finnick, what happened?" I ask, and he turns to look at me.

"You were in your viewing room." He says wildly. "You didn't see Viktor and his mutt." He murmurs, a cannon fires somewhere in the background but no one even seems to notice as the girl from Three falls to the ground.

"What did I miss?" I ask as Finnick covers his mouth, his eyes wide.

"His mutt, it's an old girlfriend of his from back home." He shakes his head. "She yelled at him, swore at him, saying what a monster he was. How he… forced her to do things." I wince at the implications. "She said… she said she knew his plan." I remember Gloss's warning, remember him telling me that Alice needed to be careful.

"What plan." I deadpan; my eyes wide with fear, Finnick curses.

"That's why they all ran to sponsor Alice." He says as he throws his arm in the crowd's direction. "After they saw her kill her mutt none of them want it to happen to her!"

"Want what to happen to her?" I yell, but no one other than Finnick seems to notice me.

"Gloss was laughing!" Finnick growls back. "_Laughing,_ and saying that he couldn't wait to see your face when it happened to her!" I grab Finnick by the front of his silk shirt and force him to look at me.

"What is going to happen to her!" I snarl. "Finnick you tell me right-"

"Viktor is going to hunt her down, Katniss!" Finnick snaps. "He is going to kill her, but before he does he is going to do the same thing to her that he did to his girlfriend!" I feel the color drain from my face as the reality sets in. "He's going to rape her."

I stumble back, unable to fully comprehend what he has just told me. I shaky my head, my curls springing around me as I cover my face. "No." I gasp. "No, no he can't do that." I feel my body begin to shake. "No, the Game Maker's won't allow that!" Finnick grabs the sides of my arms.

"There are no rules in the Arena, Katniss." He whispers in an intense voice through clenched teeth. "Remember the boy who ate the other tribute's heart? They didn't stop him till the second time." I turn away from him as tears sting my eyes. It is worse than her dying, it is worse than anything. I knot my hands in my hair, how can his be possible?

"She's only thirteen." I cry, but no one but Finnick seems to notice me.

"And she stands no chance against an eighteen year old." Finnick says in a low voice. "Until now she's been lucky, but he is going to find her, he's dead set now. You should have seen him, Katniss! You should have seen the way he smirked when she called him out!" I felt my body begin to tremble as my eyes found the screen Alice was on, seeing her shaking and rocking herself in the tree.

"She's a child." I wipe the tears of anger and fear that sting my eyes before they fall. "How can he do that?"

"Because he is a fucked up, Katniss." He follows my eyes to the screen. "Something is really wrong with him." I begin raking my mind for something I can do. You can't send a message into the arena, though that would be helpful. There is nothing I can send to her that will make her understand, what would tell her 'watch out for Viktor, he's going to try to rape you!'? I feel anger grip me as my eyes scan the room for Brutus, but he has obviously made himself scarce. Something inside of me wants to hold him accountable, wants to hit him and scream at him to make his tribute stop, but I know it is not his fault. Brutus may be from Two, but he is a good man, and he would never do or encourage something like this.

"What do I do?" I ask Finnick, who has always helped me almost as much as Haymitch when it comes to these things. I ask him with fear in my eyes and hardly a glimmer of hope in my heart. He shakes his head.

"I don't know." His voice shakes, his sea green eyes filled with the same fear. "I don't know, Katniss." I turn around quickly to see Cinna talking in a hushed but intense way to Portia, I can tell but the look in his eyes that she has told him what Finnick just told me. Haymitch is too busy calling out to the crowed and taking people's money to know what has happened. A tremor so strong it nearly causes my knees to buckle rocks my body and Finnick grabs my arm to steady me. "We'll think of something." He mutters fiercely, and I wonder for a moment why he cares so much. It's obvious though, isn't it? No one wants to see a thirteen year old girl ripped apart, well no one with heart and a shred of humanity, I'm not sure that includes most of the Citizen's capitols.

A wave of disgust washes over me, how many Capitol citizens are sitting in their homes excited about the prospect? How many can't wait to see it happen? I look at the crowed all clamoring to help the girl, how many are doing that simply to disguise their pleasure? How many simply offer money because it is what everyone else is doing? The burning taste of bile rolls up in my mouth as I clench my stomach, how many people with draw their blinds and relish in her screams? I beat my fist down on the table beside me, causing the things on it to shake and a couple drink to topple over. If this happens, if Viktor so much as tries to defile her I will kill him. It may be years in the future, once Brutus has stepped down as Mentor and he moves to take his place, but I will kill the bastard.

Blind hatred courses through my as an almost maternal protectiveness fills me, but it is short lived. How can I protect her from this? How can I protect her without sacrificing Darren? I cradle my head in my hands as my old agony rears its head. Peeta would know how to handle this, Peeta would have known how to fix this. He was always so clever, so good with people, better than I could ever hope to be. He would have known how to warn her, or how to stop this. I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, wishing my hardest for the first time in years that it was me who perished in the Arena, at least he would have been able to protect her. "You have that look again, Katniss." Finnick pulls my hands from my eyes. "I know what you're thinking, stop it." He hisses, but I shake my head.

"I can never bring anyone home." I snap back. "I can't save Alice, and even if I could it would be at Darren's expense. I can't help her without risking Darren. Peeta-"

"Stop it!" He cut me off. "Stop thinking like that!" Finnick's eyes dart around as he makes sure no one is paying attention to us.

"We'll figure this out, Katniss. You, me, Haymitch, Cinna, we'll stop him." For just a moment he pulls me into his arms, and I rest my head in the crook of his neck. "We'll figure out something." He whispers as I cling to his shirt, allowing myself a couple tears before pulling away and wiping my eyes. I can't imagine a solution to this, but there must be a way. I may not be terribly clever but Cinna and Finnick are, and even though I hate to admit it Haymitch has his talents. Between the four of us maybe we can figure something out, but it is still sickening to think that the four of us together just barely equal Peeta.

After all, if Peeta could make me desirable he could do anything.


	13. Chapter 13

A night without nightmares, for me, is a very rare and strange occurrence. Sometimes the nightmares are small things, flash backs of the Arena that leave me in a cold sweat, but sometimes they are horrible. Sometimes I see the mutt with Peeta's eye coming at me all over again; sometimes I can hear his panting breaths as his life draws to an end, sometimes I hear him whisper my name, the last thing he ever said. Sometimes I wake up from my nightmares screaming, sometimes I wake up crying, and sometimes I feel as if I'm trapped in them for a lifetime, unable to wake up. One of my most reoccurring nightmares, however, is fire engulfing everything around me just as it had in the Arena. I dream that my own title will devour me, and right now it is if I am watching my nightmare come to life.

The Game Makers were always very fond of fire, almost as fond as they are of rain, so why not combine the two? I sit on the couch in the viewing room between Cinna and Haymitch as fire rains down in the Arena, destroying everything in its path. I know already what I need to buy, my first purchase. I look over to one of my secretaries, but I can already feel my heart restricting in my chest. "You!" I command as I point to the boy, he motions to himself with a look of awe. "Of course you! Find out how much for a flame- retardant tarp." I hiss. If nothing else I can give Darren something to cover himself with. The boy punches the request into his computer.

"Forty-thousand." He calls back and I hiss. That is a large price to pay, more than I had been hoping for. I chew on my nails for a moment, and this time Cinna doesn't try to stop me. Darren already has burns up and down his arms from where the fire has burnt through his jacket. He is trying to cover his face, but he is still getting hurt. It would be better to send him the tarp than a big tub of burn ointment.

"Send it!" I yell, and the boy hits enter. Suddenly a silver parachute comes onto the screen and Darren snatches at it desperately. As soon as he unravels the tarp within he throws it over himself and crouches to the ground, trying to protect his body and his things as best he can. When the screen switches to Alice I can hardly contain my cry. The whole left side of her face is red and angry, pocketed with blisters, and she is trying desperately to take cover in a bush. I wince, what gives her cover now will be engulfed in flames in moments. Her whole body, at least the parts I can see, is smoldering and I feel as if I've been kicked in the stomach.

Forty-thousand is a steep price to pay for a girl I don't intend on bringing home. The canon sounds in the distance and my heart slams against my chest. How will I face her family if she dies now? They will know I didn't spend the money on her while I could spend it on Darren. They will know I sacrificed their little girl for him. The canon sounds again and I cringe. Burning to death is a slow and painful way to go, and by the look of her she is already experiencing some horrible pain. I feel my hands begin to shake. The bush is starting to smoke. I can't send her a tarp as well, that would lower my funds from two-hundred thousand to one-hundred-twenty-thousand in one go! I shake my head, solidifying my resolve. I can't save her, I can't risk it. I have chosen Darren, I have chosen the boy with a baby on the way, the boy who is already a man. I can't turn back and help the girl who has barely begun to live now-

The canon sounds again and my resolve snaps in half. Three dead, there wnn't be a forth, not when I can so easily help her. "Send Alice a tarp!" I snap, and the boy, Haymitch, and Cinna all look at me in shock.

"Are you sure, Katniss?" Cinna asks me softly but Haymitch sputters.

"Are you crazy?" He growls. "You can't break now, Kid! It's hard, I know, but you already chose the boy! You can't back down and-"

"I said send the damn tarp!" I yell, as the bush catches fire. Alice won't die, not when I can help her. The fourth Cannon fire will not be for her. The boy punches the send button and I watch the number in the corner dwindle. Still, the look of pure bliss on her face when she catches the tarp is more than I can bear. She falls to the ground and covers herself with it, and though she is badly injured she is safe for the moment, and while I know I've made a very stupid move I can't bring myself to regret it. Haymitch sits back against the cushions and groans.

"There goes my favor." He grumbles moodily, but Cinna puts his arm around my shoulders.

"I understand." He whispers in my ear as he kisses my temple, but I don't respond. Of course he understands, Cinna always understands. Sometimes I think it would make me feel less guilty if he would be irrational every now and again, selfish every now and again, and not understand why I do something or my motives. It would be easier to feel better about myself if he wasn't so perfect all the time. I rub my eyes as I watch my tributes duck and cover, and throughout the fire storm there are no more cannon strikes. Either the others have found safe places or their mentors were thinking along the same lines as I am. I let out a deep breath as I tick off the number of remaining tributes it my head.

Twenty-Four went in and now only five remain, the thought is sickening. The first week isn't even over and yet there are only five tributes left. This is, without a doubt, the quickest Games to ever take place. Well, not including the Games that took place in landscapes the tributes simply couldn't survive. I push my hair back as I wonder who is left. I hope one of the canons belonged to Viktor, but I highly doubt that is possible. The only tribute even close to mine in support is him, and that disgusts me to no end. How can people back him when they know his intentions? It's a question I don't ask out loud, because I know the answer will make me violent.

I lean against Cinna as I watch the fire rain down, the Game Makers really have outdone themselves this year. They made the Games the deadliest yet with psychological warfare that will echo for years. I shake my head, I'm sure there are people in their homes right now watching these Games in delight, waiting with baited breath for another Canon fire. After all, the citizens of the Capitol always seem happiest while watching a child die. Sometimes I find myself wondering what it would be like if it were their own children on the screen. What would they think if the tributes had oddly colored hair and skin? Would they find the Games so amusing or would they be as disgusted as the rest of us? Would they make their lockets and banners and shirts or would they close their shutters and weep? Sometimes I can't help but think of the Captiol citizens as less than human.

Cinna shudders beside me and I amend my though. I think of _most_ of the Capitol citizens as less than human, but there is a short list of those I don't. Cinna tightens his hold on me as the Arena burns, and when I look at the Minimap I realize the only place not receiving this hellfire is the clearing. I let out a low growl, the fire is simple another way to push the tributes towards the bottom, but at least mine are staying put for now. As I look at the red dots on the map, all five of them, I see that two are still moving towards the bottom, while the other three have stayed put. I wonder how they can be moving without burning to death. I run my fingers through my hair, perhaps their mentors bought them flame- retardant suits or something.

"Well," Haymitch suddenly says as he stands from the couch, breaking the thick silence that has descended on us. "I'm going to get a drink, you want one, kid?" He asks, and I know what he really wants to know. It is a hidden question we have been using for years, a secret message we had found long ago. Him asking me if I want a drink isn't a question of if I am thirsty, he is asking me if I am alright. He is asking if I am ready to break yet, ready to give in. I shake my head.

"Not at the moment, Haymitch." I respond, as I always do, and he nods before shuffling away. Cinna turns to look at me, and for some reason it is as if he knows what we were really saying. That is impossible, though. I have never explained our word games to him before, not because I don't want him to know but because it is a District Twelve thing, something Cinna simply isn't a part of. I don't know why that makes me feel bad, but for some reason it does. Maybe it's the fact that Cinna doesn't keep things from me. Well, to my knowledge, at least.

"You did the right thing." He says softly, and I wonder if that is true. I think back to my own Game, I remember getting things from Haymitch when I was in desperate need, and I remember asking Peeta if he had gotten anything since I showed up. He hadn't. That is simply the way things are, the Mentor choses one Tribute and sticks to them, I am the strange one. I am the one who can't watch a little girl catch fire. In the past years I have, though. I have watched my tributes die while I try to save the other. Those times, however, I hadn't had nearly as much money to help them. I suppose that is what spurred my decision. I imagine what could be coming next, what would happen that might be even more dire than the flames. I rub my hands over my eyes, that forty-thousand could easily be the difference between life and death for Darren. I might have just nailed his own coffin shut.

"I really hope so."

The fire rains on right through the night till morning, and when it finally stops the Arena is in ruins. Everything green is gone, leaving nothing but charred remains. Darren pushes the tarp, now heavy with ash, off and takes note of his surroundings. He sighs as he looks down at his arms, the burns are superficial and will probably heal in a week, but they probably smart something awful. He picks up is mace and dagger and swings his packs over his shoulder before continuing in the exact direction I wish he wouldn't. He walks carefully, tilting his head to listen for the sounds of danger. The firestorm the night before had come out of nowhere, appearing as quickly as it disappeared, and as he chose to leave his tarp behind I sincerely hoped it won't start up again. I can't afford to send him another tarp, not as I looked at what I will be sending him.

I have finally found a pickaxe. It is a beautiful thing to look at, even considering what he will using it for. The handle is long and sleek, made of a weighted plastic to counter the heavy metal head. It is sharper looking that most pickaxes and shines in the light, I know it will make him unstoppable. My fingers hover over the send button, it will cost me one-hundred-thousand dollars to send, leaving me with only twenty-thousand left. If I sent him this it will be the end, I won't be able to afford any other gifts. This will be it. I take a deep breath, he needs his weapon. He needs it if he is to survive the remaining tributes and the mutts. With a deep breath I hit the send button, and the silver parachute dropps from the heavens moments later.

He grabs at it quickly and tears away the wrappings, and his eyes turn into saucers as he looks at the axe. His lips turn up in a smile as his fingers un over the smoothest tool he has probably ever used, though I highly doubt he has ever used one as a weapon. "Thanks Katniss." He whispers just loud enough for the cameras to hear, and he begins swinging it testingly. He maneuvers with the tool, with the weapon, as if it ia an extension of his arm, moving as fluidly and gracefully as water. It brings a small grin to my face and a flutter of hope to my heart. How can anyone defeat him now? With a heave of his arm he throws the pickaxe and it flies, spinning head over handle, until it sinks itself into the charred remains of a tree. The whole thing turns to ash and falls away. Darren grins as he moves to retrieve it just as the screen switches to Alice, and my heart sinks into my stomach.

Nearly a mile from Darren she emerges from her tarp, and I feel my breath freeze in my chest. The burnt side of her face is horrible to look at, and I know the people of the Capitol must be disgusted. I've seen burns before, and though this is not the worst I've ever seen it's bad. Her skin has bubbled up with blisters and her eye is swollen shut. Her lip has torn and I know she must be in excruciating pain. I look at my funds; I don't even have enough to send her burn ointment. I don't have enough to send her anything. I try to look away but I can't, perhaps it would have been better to let her die. She moans as she gets her things together, but she knows better than to touch her wound. Rifling through her pack she pulls out an antibiotic cream and slathers it on her face. By the look of her it does nothing for the pain, but it will keep the infection away. That is, if she lives long enough for it to get infected.

Slowly she makes her way through the forest but she stumbles and falls often. I wince and find myself wishing something would end it quickly for her. A quick painless death would be better than the torture she is going through now. She jumps as a canon sounds, and the screen quickly switches to find Darren pulling his pickaxe out of the skull of the boy from eight. I wonder just how quick their confrontation had been. Did the boy from eight even see Darren before the tip if the axe pierced his skull? I try to grin but it comes out as a grimace. Darren is one step closer to winning but I can't be happy about it, not as he coldly turns his back on the boy's corpse and walks away from the lifeless body. I look towards the minimap to see where the others are and let out a small gasp. While Darren is off far away on his own the three remaining dots are close to each other, to close.

The screen switches back to Alice as she leans against a tree, drinking from the canteen she had filled before the fire rain had dried up most of the streams that had crisscrossed the arena. "Get out of there, Alice." I say as I watch the dots moving closer to her. "Run!" I cry, though I know she can't hear me. She wipes the sweat from her brow and puts her canteen away just as a horrible sickening laughter comes from behind her. She spins around, her open eye wide with fear as Viktor steps out from behind a tree, his face covered in a vicious grin.

"Hello, Alice." He says as he stalks towards her. "I've been _dying_ to meet you."


	14. Chapter 14

Viktor eyes Alice like a wolf watching its prey quiver in the brush, knowing that it is trapped. There was no way she could get away if she tried. In her pained state she would not make it ten feet before he descended on her, tearing her apart tooth and claw. She cannot make it, she cannot get away, and I grip the sofa in fear. I should have let her die last night; I should have let the fire swallow her whole! Even that would have been better than this. He saunters forwards, a predatorial grin etched on his otherwise handsome face. I grimace, no, not handsome. He is too twisted to be attractive, to sick. Even without knowing his intentions there is a darkness to him that attests to his internal deformation. As he stalks forward Alice presses back, wincing as she finds herself trapped between him and a tree. "So tell me, Alice." He coos, and my knuckles turn white. "How did a sweet little thing like you get an eight?" He asks, but Alice is far too afraid to speak.

With a few long steps he closes the distance between them, standing so close to her I'm sure she can feel his breath on her face. He draws his hand up and runs the back of it down the unmarred side of her face. "Don't feel like talking? Oh well, it doesn't matter." He breathes. "Shame about your face, you were such a pretty little thing." He grips her chin and forces her to look at him. "Like a little canary. Tell me, Canary, do you sing in those mines of yours?" Alice's frail body shivers.

"Please, please leave me alone." A tear slips down from her good eye and he rubs it away with his thumb gently, but his pupils have widened, and his smile turns even wider.

"I would like to, Alice." He says with a deep chuckle. "But I think I'd like to hear you beg some more." With that he raises his hand and brings it down across her burnt cheek. She lets out an inhuman scream, a sound very similar to the ones the mutt's make. She staggers as blood blossoms from the burst blisters, her body shuddering. "Come now, Alice. It's no fun if you're quiet." He says as he grabs her by her hair and yanks her back towards him.

"Stop! Please!" She chokes out, and he laugh manically. He pulls her flush against him, and the surprise mixed with fear in her eyes enrages me. I jump up from the couch with my nails biting into my palms. I don't know where I'm planning on going, or what I'm planning on doing, but someone must pay for this, someone has to suffer for what he is doing to her!

"Say it again." He yells as he grips her face roughly, his nails digging into her burns.

"Please stop." She wails, but he simply presses her against the tree, his hands roaming her tiny body. The look in his eye sends me reeling.

"I'll kill him!" I yell at the screen. "I swear to god I will skin that bastard alive!" I fist my hands in my hair as his hand slips under her jacket, and she struggles as best she can. Cinna attempts to pull me into his arms, to hide my face from the screen but I push him back, probably harder than I should. That is my tribute on screen, _my girl,_ and she is about to be destroyed. I let out a feral growl, I hope he lives. I hope he lives so I can strangle him with my own bare hands!

"Stop! Leave me alone!" She screams, but he keeps on going. He buries his face in her thin neck, biting her hard enough to leave teeth marks on her ivory skin. He laughs once more. "What are you doing?" She cries, tears streaming down her face in a gentle stream.

"Shh shh shh." He says almost tenderly. "The less you struggle the less it will hurt." He grins madly as his hands travel down her small hips to her bottom, but the expression is not long lived. "But it _will _hurt." She catches him off guard with a knee to the groin and he stumbles back, doubled over his waist and she breaks free for a moment and hope rises in my chest. Like a bullet, much faster that I would have imagined possible in her state, she tears away into the forest, pushing crumbling branches out of her way with her hands as she goes. She's only run a few meters before he catches up. He grabs her around her thin waist and slams her to the ground, pinning her arms above her head as he spits on her. "Little bitch." He snarls, holding her fast with one hand.

"Darren!" She screams at the top of her lungs. "Darren!" The back of his hand comes down across her face, the injured side, and her head snaps so quickly I hope he's broken her neck. At least that would be a quick ending for her, a mostly painless ending.

"Shut up!" He hisses as he begins unbuttoning her trousers, his eyes dark and greedy.

"Please stop." She sobs as he struggles to pull them down, tearing them slightly in his haste. "Please." He smirks, his eyes glues to the snow white skin of her pelvis where it dips down. It disgusts me how good of a view the cameras are getting. Something tells me I will have to murder Seneca Crane for allowing this to happen when I finish with Viktor.

"That's much better." He murmurs. " I-" He is cut off suddenly by a flash of movement, a blur of arms and legs that tackles him off screen. The cameras, however, quickly adjust to see that Rider is sitting on Victor's chest, pummeling the other boy with what looks like a rock.

"You. Are. A. Monster!" Rider growls with each slam of the rock, but his advantage is short lived. Viktor hooks his leg around the boy from Four and flips them both over to where Rider is now staring up at the Monster.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to interrupt?" He hisses as he wraps his hands around the boy's throat. Rider's eyes bulge as he kicks and thrashes, but unlike Alice Viktor can't hold him for long. Rider throws the boy off of him, getting to his feet as quickly as he can to face the other Career. He sends one quick glance in Alice's direction.

"What are you doing? Run!" He yells as he draws his knife, but so does Viktor. His eyes glint with hatred.

"It's not like I won't find you, my Canary!" He calls, but before he can say anything else Rider rushes forward, and the two move like dancers. For a moment Alice is too mesmerized to move as she watches the two Career tributes fight, their blades glinting in the sunlight. Here, in this barren land, they look like to superimposed beings doing a choreographed dance. While Viktor is bigger than Rider he cannot match Rider's speed, but it is obvious Rider cannot match his strength. For a moment it seems as if there is hope, as if Rider might have the upper hand but then it is over as quickly as it began. Just as I had finished off Cato in my own Games Viktor has finished off Rider with a jagged red smile pained on his throat.

The boy's hands fly up to cover the wound, and thick red blood seeps from between his fingers as he falls to his knees. Viktor laughs as he kicks the boy over, watching in delight as his body twitches and horrible gurgling sounds emanate from his mouth. Maybe it is my imagination but for a moment it is as if I hear the words 'Alice, run.' amongst the incoherent sounds. Viktor wipes his blade off of his pants as he watched Rider's body slowly fall still.

"Now," he says in a triumphant voice. "Where were we, Canary?" He asks as he turns around, but his excited eyes grow wide with shock. Standing in front of Alice, guarding her from Viktor, is Darren. I let out an excited gasp as I see the two of them standing together, a look of murder on Darren's face.

"So," Darren begins darkly. "You like to rape women?" Darren asks as he steps forward, his pickaxe in hand. Viktor's face is covered in astonishment as his eyes flit between the man who towers over him and his weapon.

"Where did you get that?" Viktor takes a step back.

"You like to hurt little girls?" Darren growls as he keeps advancing slowly. "I'm going to have a little girl soon." Viktor visibly swallows. "You know what I would do to any man who tried to hurt her?"

"Look, man-"

"I would gut him and hang his entrails in front of my house as a warning!" Darren thunders, and fear flickers in the Career's eyes. I can't keep the grin off my face, to see a Career tribute quivering in the face of a tribute of mine is very fulfilling. I knew the other tributes were afraid of Darren but I hadn't been expecting anything like this. Viktor looks up at Darren as if he is an apparition, an angel of death he cannot possibly hope to fight off. As he keeps moving backward he stumbles on a root and his knife drops from his hand. He lets out a small frightened sound as he puts his hands up defensively.

"I wasn't really going to-"

"You're a liar!" Darren booms, raising his pickaxe. "And I'm going to make sure you never hurt a little girl again!" But before he can swing his axe Viktor freezes and his eyes grow wide. His mouth falls open as he sputters; his body trembling as Darren slowly lowers his axe in confusion. The Career falls to his knees just as Alice removes her knife from his back where it pierced his heart. Without as much as a hint of remorse or mercy she grabs a handful of his hair and drives the point of her dagger into his ear. The Cannon sounds. He falls to the ground. Everything is silent.

"I am not a Canary." She spits as she removes her dagger from his head, and I cannot seem to unstick my jaw from the floor. She killed him, the Career from District Two. The thirteen year old girl from Twelve, so thin and frail she seems hardly able to stand. She looks at his body without pity before she kicks his face, which holds his eternal shock, for good measure.

For a few moments my two tributes stand there in silence, neither knowing what to do or say. I suppose some part of me should be happy because I will finally be bringing someone home, but all I can think right now is one will have to kill the other. It's happened before in the Games, where tributes have to kill the tribute from their home District, but usually it happens to the Careers. Darren finally looks up from his pickaxe to Alice, and the emotions that cross his face are heart breaking. The Arena is completely silent; I imagine all of Panem is silent. The Seventy-Eighth Hunger Games are about to draw to an end, just as they had finally begun. Not even a week has gone by and twenty-two children are dead, two bodies still lie on screen, and a thirteen year old girl cannot take her eyes off her first kill.

Darren closes his eyes for a moment and a single tear drops down his cheek. I fall back down onto the couch; he knows what he has to do. He has to kill her. He opens his eyes and looks back down at Alice, but she hasn't looked up yet. He has saved her twice now, protected her from the other tributes, and now he will be the one to kill her. There is no one to distract him, no one to catch his attention so she can sneak in a killing blow. It is just the two of them, and I know the tension makes up for the fact that Seneca never had the chance to unleash all his mutts on them. There is no where she can run, now where she can hide. His arms are longer, stronger, and he is much faster than she is. "I'm sorry." He whispers, but Alice doesn't appear to hear him. "I'm sorry." He repeats, and Alice seems to twitch. He takes a step forward, she doesn't move. "I'm sorry." He says again, and this time she looks up at him, confusion written on her face.

"What?" She asks, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying out. She hasn't realized it yet.

"I'm sorry." He says in a breathy voice as more tears drip from his eyes. She tilts her head to the side.

"Darren, what are you talking about?" She murmurs, but her eyes fall on his axe and she gasps.

"I'm sorry." His body is shaking as his fingers tighten on the hilt of his axe. Alice's head snaps between the point and his face again and again, she takes a short step back.

"N-no." She shakes her head in disbelief. "No, Darren please don't." She puts her hands up, just as Viktor had, and walks backwards.

"I'm sorry." He shudders as he takes another step, but Alice lets out a long groan.

"No, please no." She begs, her eyes darting down to watch her step. She changed her direction slightly, avoiding a root before eventually squaring off to him again. She is hardly more than ten feet away.

"I'm sorry." He repeats again, taking another step. Alice lets out a loud sob.

"Please, I don't want to die!" She cried as tears pour down her cheeks. "I don't want to die!" She asks as she puts more distance between herself and Darren. I lean against Cinna as tears stream down my own face. He will never be the same after this; he will have nightmares of this moment for years to come, if not for the rest of his life. Alice's eyes search the ground for something, anything, but she doesn't seem to find what she is looking for.

"I'm sorry." Is has become his mantra as he stalks forward. "I'm sorry." Alice stops and looks down at her feet, her small shoulders trembling.

"Please." She whispers, as she crosses her arms over herself and waits for the end. I glue my eyes to the screen, knowing that when the time comes I will try to look away. I can't, I owe my tributes that much. I have to watch him kill her; I can't spare myself the pain. If they can't escape it why should I be able to?

"I'm sorry." He says as he takes one last step, and his body pitches forward. He lets out one short stifled cry as the ground beneath his gives way and he falls through to the pit below. Just as Alice has suspected there were spikes at the bottom, and his screams end with a cannon fire. Tears streamed down Alice's face as she looked down into the pit.

"I'm sorry."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Wow guys, just… wow. This jump in reviews has really surprised me and made me very very very happy! I appreciate you all taking the time to review and I hope to see many more :D I'm sorry this chapter took so long but I've been quite busy with this pesky little thing called life. That and the Movie, dear lord that was beautiful! Anyway here is the next chapter, enjoy and please review!**

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the winner of the Seventy-Eighth Hunger Games; Alice Goodale, the Victor of District Twelve!" Even Seneca sounds a little astonished as he announces her name for all of Panem to hear. I sit there staring at the screen, unable to fathom what has just happened. A tribute from my District is the Victor, but she isn't even the tribute I had chosen! I feel tears sting my eyes as Alice continues staring at the hole as the anthem begins playing in the background. Darren had been so desperate to make sure his little girl never grew up without her father, but now she would never even know she had one.

I lean against Cinna, closing my eyes as the hovercraft appears to pull Alice out of the Arena, but I remind myself that Alice doesn't have the chance to close her eyes and forget, so I open them once more. When the latter descends she doesn't move, she simply stands there, her eyes glued to the hole. She doesn't sway where she stands, she doesn't even seem to register that the Hovercraft is waiting for her. She simply stands, immobilized, staring down at the body of Darren. Eventually a couple men in white scrubs descended and grabbed her by her arms, pulling her up into the hovercraft that promptly disappears into the sky.

"She's gone." I murmur and I don't mean she's gone from the Arena. The small girl, so eager to please, so eager to live, is gone. I will be surprised if she smiles even once in the next year. She's going home but she will never leave the arena, never. Something tells me in his viewing room Finnick is watching Alice but thinking of Annie. "She's gone." I repeat to myself, and Cinna rubs my arm carefully.

"She could get better." He muses quietly. "With sleep, food, love. She could heal." Haymitch lets out a low grumble that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Bull." He says as he takes another drink of his flask. "You don't ever forget what you saw or what you did in the Arena. You don't _get better _from the Games." He runs his fingers over his hair and lets out a bitter laugh. "I didn't get better. You didn't get better, kid. And we both know we're stronger than she is." He makes a motion towards the screen that now holds credits thanking the Game Makers, the builders, and everyone else who made this monstrosity possible. "She won't get better, either." He peers into the flask, grunting about it being empty. "There's nothing left to get better, she'll be just like Annie Cresta. Poor mad girl." Haymitch sighs once before standing and stretching his arms over his head. "Well, she's a Victor now, they'll be taking her to the Remake Center. Can't have Panem seeing her all scarred and dirty." He says as he points to me. "Better go meet her, Kid. She's gonna need you the most." He says before exiting the room slowly. Cinna shakes his head.

"He does like his dramatic exits, doesn't he?" He asks as he stands and draws me with him, I rub the tears away from my eyes, disguising the motion with a well places yawn.

"At least he's not yelling at cameras and falling off stages at the moment." I say as Effie flings herself into the room, an 'Alice' locket around her neck. I bite my tongue to stop myself from criticizing her about it, or reaching forward and ripping it off her neck.

"How exciting!" She calls in her bright and bubbly voice. "Little Alice a Victor! Who could have seen it coming?" No one, that's who. "Oh, Happy Hunger Games!" She says excitedly, and at the phrase a bracelet on her wrist shoots a small amount of confetti into the air. I try not to allow her enthusiasm send me into a rage. I stare at the screen that had held the arena as it changed to Caesar Flickerman speaking to Seneca about the game, they talk about Darren in length, and the disappointment there. All those people were counting on my big strong tribute to demolish all those who stood in his path, and he had. That did not, however, save him in the end. Alice's skill of observation had done him in, that and his inability to listen to her scream.

Effie giggles excitedly and clasps her hands in front of her as a picture of Alice shows on the screen. "Oh I have so many plans for her. The Capitol will love love love her!" She chimes as she hurries over to grab my hand. "Come now, Katniss. We've got to go meet our little star!" She says as she pulls me away from Cinna, and I send him one last furtive glance.

"Good luck, Kat." He calls with a sad smile as he exits the room with us but turns towards his studio. He has to finish her dress for her presentation as a Victor, then again who knows how long it will take the doctors to make her pretty once more. It could take hours; it could take days, depending on how extensive the damage is. Honestly I don't think even the Capitol doctors will so easily fix her burnt face. I allow Effie to pull me away from the viewing room and up into our living quarters, flashing some sort of badge to the guard as we hurry through, as if my face isn't all the clearance we need. "First we need to get you out of that." She says, motioning to my drab sweat pants and comfortable shirt. "And into something fabulous! I'm sure there's something wonderful in your closet, we wouldn't want the cameras to catch you looking so barraged!"

In a rush Effie pushed me up into my room and throws a blue dress at me. It's a simply thing, but the color causes my heart to constrict in my chest. It's the same color blue as my own reaping dress, and all that brings back is the all too fresh memory of my Game, and Peeta. I sit down on my bed as Effie chirps on unbeknownst to my distraction. I run my hands over the soft supple cloth and blink away tears. Everybody dies in the arena, there is no victor. What I'm bringing home is not Alice, but a shell that once held her soul. I might as well be bringing back corpse. Once again I feel the all too familiar longing pulling my gut, the most earnest desire to have Peeta here with me. Usually, during the Games, I'm capable of pushing the thought of him away as to not distract myself from my Tributes, but the Games always end like this. I suddenly feel Effie's fingers under my chin, pulling my face up. "Alice is going home, aren't you happy?" She asks, her smile faltering for a moment. I shake my head.

"Don't you understand?" I ask, feeling my anger rise. I know I shouldn't take it out on her, I shouldn't blame her. I stand slowly. "Alice isn't going home, she's never going home. She'll be trapped in that Arena forever, she'd be better off dead!" I hiss and Effie gasps, taking a step back from me.

"What?"

"She's thirteen years old and she has _killed_ people, Effie. She _killed _them!" I bite back the rage that now floods me, trying to restrain it. She isn't the culprit, she isn't the one at fault. Still I see her glossed white skin and her bright orange wig and I can't help but feel feral. She's one of them, she claps and cheers and wears their merchandise and participates in the merriment! She may be a sweet fool but she is still Capitol, and I am still from the Districts. We'll never understand each other; we'll never really be friends.

"But-"

"Forget it!" I growl as I snatch up the dress and throw it on, leaving my hair in wild waves down my back. "I don't have time for this." I say as I march out of the room, only stopping for a moment to slip my feet into a pair of flats before making my way to the Remake Center. As angry as I am with everything Capitol right now Alice needs me, and if she is ever going to even heal in the tiniest bit she is going to need me now to set things right.

Effie trots behind me, fighting to keep up in her high heeled shoes. I take longer quicker strides just to make it harder on her. The trip to the Remake center doesn't take as long as I'd hoped it would. I wanted time to think of something to say, time to cool off, time to try to imagine a way to possibly make this even a little okay. I peer through a glass window silently with my arms crossed over my chest, watching as they graph something to Alice's face. "How you holding up?" Haymitch asks as he suddenly appears beside me.

"It's not about me anymore." I reply shortly, and he takes another swig from his flask before holding it out to me. My fingers tremble for a moment and I almost take it but I stop myself at the last second and curl my fingers around my arm instead. He nods in understanding and tucks it back into the hidden pocket of his jacket. "What do I say to her?" I ask with furrowed brows. "When she gets out of there… what do I say?" Haymitch considers my question for a moment, his fingers drumming on the lip of the window.

"Home." He finally says. "Tell her she's going home." I nod my head, but something tells me Alice won't understand, not really. I sigh and Haymitch wraps an arm around my shoulders as we stand there looking at my tribute. She is thinner than she had been before, if that is at all possible, and her body is riddled with bruises, and burns, and cuts. Her hair has been partially singed off and she doesn't have an eyebrow in sight. If the Capitol could see her now what would they think? Would they be pleased with her image or would they find it as horrifying as we do.

"How do the other Mentors do it?" I ask quietly. "How can they stand it?" All those years Haymitch mentored on his own had been out of necessity, because there was no else. I couldn't understand why the same Mentors came back year after year, the ones that fought for the chance to Mentor the next year's Tributes. Haymitch sighs and shakes his head.

"The Arena changes you, you know that." He says and I nod. "Some people handle it differently. Some people forget how to do anything other than Mentor. All they think about, all they know, is the Arena." I wince at the thought.

"That sounds like a horrible life." Haymitch reached into his pocket and takes out his flask, unscrewing the top and taking a big gulp.

"Yeah." He mutters before shaking his head and tucking it away once more.

They cancel the post-Game interviews this year, claiming that Caesar Flickerman has fallen ill with a horrible cold but we all know the real reason why. While Alice looks like herself once more she hasn't said a word since she said _I'm sorry._ No amount of probing from the Doctors or coaxing from myself has roused her, and in the end we all decide it is best if I simply take her home so she can hopefully heal up in time for the Victor's Tour. They can't cancel that, so she'll have to get at least a little more coherent. In the plush living car Alice and I sit alone, and though she has yet to say a word she has not left my side. Even now she is curled up against me, hiding her face in my arm as the train speeds on. I run my fingers through her hair and speak to her in a soft voice, but I never get a response.

I've asked everyone else to leave us alone, mainly because whenever Alice sees anyone Capitol, even Cinna, she starts shaking so hard I'm almost afraid she is having a fit. I look down at her carefully; they've fixed her face quite well, not even leaving the faintest scar to indicate she'd had a horrible burn at all. I rub her back; I can't feel her spine sticking out or her ribs either. I try to be happy about the fact that she will never go hungry again but even that doesn't make what she went through worth it. "Does it ever go away?" Alice whispers, and I nearly jump from my seat at the sound of her voice. I stare at her face, but there has been no change in expression, and for a moment I wonder if I even heard her at all. "The screams, do they ever go away?" I think of all the screams I hear at night, of all the gurgling pleas and strangled cries. There is no use in trying to protect her, so I hold her tighter to my side instead.

"No." I whisper. "It gets better, but they never really go away." She shakes a little in my arms and covers her ears with her tiny hands. I rock her gently, listening to the screams in my own mind. Alice may now have the screams of her fellow tributes rocking around her skull but in mine I hear all those I've mentored, and all those I fought. My stomach starts to turn and I fear I'll have to find a bathroom but Alice stirs once more.

"Katniss?" She asks quietly.

"Yes?" my voice catches, but I hope she won't notice. She looks up at me slowly, and the vacancy in her pale blue eyes sets me on edge.

"Where is Darren? Did he take another train?" My heart stops pounding as I look down at her. She doesn't know, how can she not know? My heart starts beating all at once, struggling to make up for the life giving air that was trapped within my lungs. I draw in a ragged breathe as I look down at her.

"No, he's not on another train." I whisper, my mind reeling as I try to decide what is better. Should I allow her to live in her fantasy where she doesn't know he is dead because of her or should I tell her the truth? She smiles softly and it nearly breaks me.

"Well, I'm going to go look for him." She says in a ghost of her bubbly voice, humming as she extracts herself from my arms and walks away, her head lilting slightly to the side. As soon as the door closes behind her I take in a shaky breath of air as tears roll down my cheeks. Something inside of me knew she was going to snap, knew she wouldn't be able to hold all that darkness inside of her, but I wasn't ready for this. How could anyone be ready for this? I curl my knees up against my chest as Haymitch comes in through the door Alice had disappeared through only moments before, looking extremely lost.

"Alice just told me she was looking for Darren…" He breathed slowly and I nod my head, pushing back the tears before even more fight their way from my eyes. I rub my face with my shirt sleeve. Now is not the time for crying, now is the time for planning.

"She really is gone, Haymitch." I look towards the door, as if I can see her just beyond it, asking confused employees where Darren is. Haymitch drops himself in the seat next to me and rubs his hands over his face.

"She's not the first." He mumbles, his eyes turning soft as he turns to look at me. "I thought that was going to be you when you left the Arena. You didn't speak for months." I look down at my lap as I remember the crippling depression that had taken hold of me. For that day on I had understood why my mother watched Prim and I slowly dying, why she had not lifted a finger. I understood, because I had experiences the same darkness I simply couldn't escape. Not even Prim had been able to coax me from the pain of Peeta's death. I always told myself he might have survived if I hadn't left for the feast, if I hadn't put him to sleep. I shaky my head, willing those evil thought away. I hadn't even been there to hold him as he died. His last words were spoken before the sleep took him, the sleep I forced on him.

"You came out of it fighting." He places his hand on my knee in a strange show of affection. "She came out of it like… this." I nod and lean against him, and I'm surprised to find that he doesn't reek of liquor. Usually at this point he is so blazingly drunk it is not even an option to try and speak to him, and while I do smell the faint twinge of alcohol it is not as if he filled a tub and bathed in it. I can't help but wonder what that means.

In the distance I see the mountains I know Twelve is situated in, and I feel a yearning pull at my stomach. A longing to see those decrepit buildings and smell the smoke filled air, to feel my mother, Prim, Madge, and even Gale. I stand slowly, rubbing my hands over my face. We'll be there in a matter of hours, and I have to think of something. I have to find a way to make her homecoming a little less painful. People will ask her question, reporters will be there, and I have to think of a way to protect her.

I didn't stop being her Mentor when she left the Arena. I will never stop being her Mentor.

Just as Haymitch hasn't stopped being mine.


	16. Chapter 16

It takes me a while but I finally get Alice into some semblance of normal. After a lot of coaxing I've gotten her to stop talking to things that aren't there, and even made her stand still long enough to brush out her long knotted hair. Every once in a while she will stick a strand in her mouth and suck on it like a toddler and I can't seem to get her to stop. Still, she's stopped humming to herself constantly and that in itself is a small victory. Slowly I've begun to understand her madness. Though she is thirteen she now acts and talks as if she is hardly more than seven, and I can understand why. Wouldn't we all love to stay in that time of carefree worry? In her stress and fear her mind brought her back to that whimsical mindset, and I wonder if she will escape from it.

I finally get her dressed appropriately just as the train begins to slow as it nears the District Twelve Station. I wrap my arm around Alice's shoulder to stop her from bounding off. Effie comes into the compartment, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "Oh, I hate to see you go." She sniffles. "But I'll see you again in just a few-" Alice starts screaming when her eyes fall on her. She claws at my side, burying her face in my dress as she tries to hide herself away from Effie.

"Alice, Alice it's alright!" I try to convince her, and Effie's face is full of hurt and surprise. "She's not going to hurt you, Alice! No one will hurt you!" I try to convince her, holding her arms steady as she flails and struggles. I look back at Effie, but I can't find sympathy for her. Not when she's wearing her sins on her sleeve. Enough food to eat. A comfortable bed. A roof that never leaks. Expensive clothes. Years without manual labor. Luxury. To me they are all sins. "Just… just go." I try not to be harsh with her but there is an edge in my voice I cannot smooth. How can I look at all the things I never had without feeling angry, without feeling jealous? How can I trust someone who has never been afraid for her life? I know it's not fair to be angry with her simply because she was born lucky but I can't stop myself. It's just too easy to hate her for her blessings. With a terse nod Effie turns and trots away, the ridiculous heels of her shoes making soft patting noises on the floor as she leaves the room.

"I don't like them." Alice sobs. "Strange skin. Strange hair. Scary! I don't like them! Make them go away, Katniss!" She cries, covering her ears once more. "Make the screaming stop!" I kneel down and wrap my arms around the girl, knowing there is no way I can do that. I can't protect her from the Capitol; she'll have to go back in a few months' time. I can't make the screams go away, those will be hers to cherish for the rest of her life. There is nothing I can do but give her advice and listen when she wants to talk. There is nothing else anyone can do. That is the Victor's curse.

We don't get better. We don't heal. Being a Victor is like having a terminal disease that kills you slowly over time, and it is more painful than any other kind of sickness. I run my hand over Alice's soft brown hair as she wails against me, and I wonder just how many Victor's minds have been claimed. How many of them went mad and simply put on a brave face when the cameras were around? I hug Alice a little tighter. I will have to teach her how to pretend.

The train rolls to a stop and the doors all open at once. I let out a deep breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding. "Time to go, Alice." I whisper as I stand gripping her hand tightly in mine. "It's time to go home." The flashing lights that blind don't surprise me, but Alice hides her face in my side. She'll get used to it, one day. I pull her along, pushing reporters out of my way with protective ferocity as I bring her towards the podium. Let the District get a good look at her before I bring her to her new home and let everything sink in. She'll need some time alone, time to cope, time to try to understand. She'll never understand, not really, but she'll try. We all do.

As expected the area in front of the platform is packed with miners and families alike. Most clap enthusiastically, but there are quite a few eyes filled with tears and I know why. They wish it was Darren standing beside me, not Alice. I can't blame them, of course. I remember the look in Peeta's mother's eyes when they met mine, a look that very clearly said _you killed my son._ I shake away the memory and whisper for Alice to wave, to smile, but she does nothing. This is being televised all across Panem; the Victor's homecoming is a very emotional time for everyone. What do the Capitol Citizens make of her fear? More importantly, what do I care?

Without waiting for people to ask questions or even give them time to really comprehend that she is there at all I pull her off the stage and towards the sleek car that will carry us to the Victor's village. Right before I duck into the car my eye's meet Prim's in the depths of the crowed, and something in them sends a chill down my spine. Something is wrong. Very _very _wrong.

After I drop Alice off at her new house, making sure her mother is there to take care of her, I head back to my own. My house is directly across the road from hers, and I'm thankful that I'll get the chance to keep a close eye on her. God knows she is going to need it. While her parents will be there to take care of her they will never truly know what to do about her nightmares or her fears. They won't know how to deal with her agony like I do. As soon as I reach the door it flies open and Prim launches herself in my arms, her head rested in the crook of my neck. Could she be the little girl I used to tuck into my side? She's a few inches taller than I am now and full of curves I have never really had. She pulls away a tiny bit and pushes back my hair, smoothing down the pieces that stick up at odd angles. She smiles, but I can see past that. Prim has always been a terrible liar, ever since we were children she's never been able to hide a thing from me. She's been crying.

"What's wrong, Prim?" I ask, because I know there is no point in beating around the bush. Her smile falters for a moment but she holds to it.

"Nothing's wrong." Her voice catches, and I grab her hands as she tries to pull away.

"What happened? Is mom okay?" She nods her head quickly and pulls me into the house, slamming the door shut behind me. "Enough of this, what's going on?" She pulls me down the hall, as if she's afraid that the door will hear us and tell our secret to everyone. When she turns to look at me I see tears in her eyes once more.

"Emmi is dead." She whispers, and my heart smashes against my rib cage.

"What?" I gasp. "How?"

"When Darren… died she became hysterical. Her mother brought her here and she… she went into premature labor." Prim looks down and I know what's coming before she says it. "She didn't make it… Her or the baby." I lean against the wall, and I can physically feel the fight draining out of me. Darren is dead. Emmi is dead. Ashley is dead. In a matter of hours an entire family was massacred by the Hunger Games.

"Boy of girl?" I ask shakily, and Prim furrows her eyebrows.

"What?" I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Was the baby a boy of a girl?" Prim looks down at her feet, and I know why.

"Girl… The baby was a girl." Darren had been right, Emmi had been right. Far be it from anyone to doubt the instincts of a mother. I lean against the wall, biting my knuckle to stop myself from wailing. I add two to the death count. The Hunger Games has killed one thousand seven hundred and ninety six people. One thousand seven hundred and ninety six _innocent _people, most of them hardly more than children. That blood is on the Capitol's hands. Prim wipes my cheek.

"There's more." She breathes, and I look up at her with fear in my eyes. More, how can there possibly be more? What _more _could there be?

"What?" I ask, though I am terrified of the answer.

"Just before you arrived-"

"I did." I stand straight, though my knees beg to sink to the ground. How can I be any more destroyed? How can they beat me any harder? I turn slowly towards the voice, though I would never need to see the owner of it to know who it belongs to. Standing in the doorway of my living room is President Snow, a white rose pinned to his lapel and the smile of a snake on his puffy lips. "Care to join me in the living room, Miss Everdeen?" He asks, and I move without thought. When President Snow asks for something you obey or you die.

"Of course." I say in a low steady voice, because I know speaking in my natural pitch with only come out shaky and broken. With stiff steps I make my way towards him, trying my best not to physically shudder as his hand finds the small of my back. I allow him to lead me towards the couch where he motions for me to sit and I obey like a trained dog. He sits in the arm chair opposite and I see the array of snacks my mother had obviously set out for us, but I make no move for them. I simply sit as still as I can, hoping that if I don't make a sudden movement he won't be tempted to strike.

"Quite a surprising Games this year, wasn't it?" He asks as he rests his elbows on the arms of his chair and folds his fingers. He looks so comfortable in my house, as if it is actually his and I am the guest. It makes me sick to realize just how true that is.

"Yes." I reply simply, and he arches his eyebrows.

"Many people had a lot of money on Darren, you know." He says in an even voice. "And you know what happens to people who lose a lot of money?" He reaches forward slowly and plucks a strawberry off the plate before him, inspecting it before sinking his teeth into it. I wonder if it is just my imagination that makes it seem as if his bite is sharper than a normal bite.

"No sir, I can't say that I do." I try to keep the hint of annoyance out of my voice but it doesn't work. Of course I don't know, when have I ever had something to lose money on, or know someone who's even have enough to lose? I think of all the money I have hidden away within the house, in the solitary bank in town, what would I do if I lost it? I would do absolutely nothing. It isn't as if money makes a difference to me.

"People get angry." He sighs, his eyes finding mine. "That boy of yours was the crowd favorite. Big, strong, brutal, but with a soft side. Everybody loved him." He scored a ten, he had a little girl waiting for him at home, of course he was the favorite! I feel anger thread through my veins as I look at President Snow. Is he here to scold me for his loss? Is he here to blame me for the fact that Darren fell down that hole? Two more people have already died, does he plan on making it a third? The thought almost makes me want to laugh. If he killed me he would have more of a mess to clean up than he already does. "The general feeling of the Capitol is one of… disappointment." He says as he wipes the juices from the strawberry off onto a napkin, looking at his fingers as he does so. "And as I'm sure you know I can't stand to see my people upset." His people are those of the Capitol, of course. We in the Districts are little more than beasts of burden.

"So what is your plan?" I ask because I know he has one, Snow always has one. He leans forward on his knees and the scent of blood is overwhelming. I sit back a little but it isn't as if I have much room for escape. I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from vomiting all over the tiny sandwiches my mother obviously made as a welcome home gesture to me.

"My plan, Miss Everdeen, is to lift their spirits." He smiles deviously at me. "My plan is to give them something new to enjoy. Something new to hold their attention." I swallow the lump in my throat. No, this can't be possible. He stands and makes his way towards the door, only turning once the Peace Keepers meet him in the door way. "Your wedding will not be at the conclusion of the Victor's Tour, Miss Everdeen. Your wedding will be at the conclusion of the month. Enjoy your time at home, and Happy Hunger Games." With that he leaves and I am left staring at the place he had been standing before.

My wedding was at the conclusion of the month.

The conclusion of the month.

My wedding.

I swallow the lump in my throat; I don't need to look at the calendar on the wall to know what day it is but I do it anyway. It is the Twentieth. I have little more than a week until I exchange vows with a complete and total stranger. No tears come, much to my surprise, I wonder if that means it hasn't sunken in, or if it means I've simply cried all the tears I can possibly cry. Slowly I stand from my seat, swaying ever so slightly as Prim appears where Snow vanished. I can read it on her face, just as Effie had been listening so has Prim. She opens her arms to me but I stepped past her, my heart a cold stone in my chest.

"Katniss-" She moans, but I keep walking. I find the stairs with ease and ascent to my room, locking the door behind me to stop my sister from coming in. She knocks a few times, calling for me, but her pleas fall of deaf ears. She slams her fists against the wood again and again, but I simply make my way into my bathroom, bracing my hands on either side of the sink as I stare at my reflection.

President Snow has taken so much from me, he and his games. He took Peeta, Rue, my freedom, my future, and now he is taking away my family, he is taking away _me._ I touch my fingers to my cheeks; I don't even look like myself any more. Everything about me still glows with the super imposed beauty of the Capitol. My skin is to smooth, my brows to perfectly, my eyes are to warm and my lips to red. No wonder Gale didn't even want me when I got home, I don't even look like me anymore! I grip the sides of the sink tighter as my eyes fall on the dermal piercings that had finally healed; the little token of the Capitol still shining on my face. I run my fingers over the three little diamonds, so perfect, so bright. I close my nails around one and yank the anchor out of my cheek, and blood seeps from the opened flesh.

I pull out the others with just the same emotionless determination, not even flinching as streams of blood fall from the three holes in my face. I look down at the piercings in my hand, bloodied but still beautiful. They are real diamonds; they could have fed my family for months. Without a second thought I allow them to fall down the drain, listening to the satisfying tinkle they make as they fall down the pipes. I look down at the ring on my finger and for a moment I even consider allowing it to join them in the sewers, but know I would only be punished even more for its loss. No one will miss my dermals. I stare at my face in the mirror, entranced by the blood as it dries on my face. I know where I must to go, I know what I must do, but it is still nearly an hour before I finally do it. After what feels like a lifetime of loathing my image I push myself away from the mirror, away from what the Capitol has made me, and make my way out of the house, ignoring the calls my mother and Prim make as I leave without a word.

I move with carefully calculated steps, it is a route I've walked many times before. I do not feel the sun on my face or the wind pulling my hair, and I find myself at Haymitch's door before I even realize it. I knock three times and wait in silence, and I hear the cacophony of him trying to make it past his mountains of garbage to the front. He throws the door open, his shirt already untucked and half unbuttoned and a bottle in his hand. His hair is disheveled and a greasy, his cheeks and nose red with drink. He squints and touches his fingers to my cheek where the blood has run down. "Katniss, what did you-" Without a word I grab the bottle from his hand and bring it to my lips.

I throw my head back and allow the fire water to burn its path down my throat.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Once again I am so so sooo sorry that this took so long. I've been very busy with work and getting ready for school next semester and ect. Life has just been getting in the way and no matter how hard I push it away it pushes back even harder. I will try my hardest to get another chapter up before Monday but I make no promises. I simply think I might do better if I give myself a deadline. Anyway, enjoy! And as always tell me what you think! **

Before I can take more than a couple mouth fills Haymitch grabs the bottle from my hand, ripping it away from me before pulling me inside. He slams the door shut behind him and turns to look at me venomously, and this is what breaks me from my daze. He has asked me all these years if I was ready to take the bottle, if I was beyond my breaking point. Time and time again he has held it out to me, asking if the weight on my shoulders had become more than I can bear and it has, it finally has, and he is going to deny me? I glare right back at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" He snaps and I feel my fists tighten at my side.

"The same thing you are!" I growl, reaching for the bottle once more. He pulls it out of reach over my head and I glower. "Very mature of you." I drone sarcastically.

"Not now, Sweetheart, not in the homestretch. I don't think so." He says with tight lips, and I shake my head.

"You're not the one who just got a visit from Snow." I snap, and his face turns pale.

"What?"

"Snow just graced me with his presence." I say with a mocking smile on my lips. "To inform me that my wedding will not be at the end of the Victors tour, it will be in little less than two weeks." He lowers the bottle but still keeps it from my grasp.

"Then we don't have much time." He mutters to himself, and I furrow my eyebrows.

"What was that?" He looks back to me, as if surprised that I am still here.

"Nothing, Kid. Just that we don't have much time to get you ready." He tries to cover but I know that is not what he meant. He grabs my wrist and pulls me into his demolished kitchen. He takes the cleanest rag he can find and wets it, holding it to my cheek gently. "Cinna's not going to be happy that you've messed up your face." He grumbles. "They're going to need you to be pretty." He is trying to throw me, trying to make me insult him, trying to distract me. It won't work.

"That's not what you meant." I say suspiciously, but he simply shrugs.

"Then what did I mean?" I open my mouth to shoot back a retort but find I have nothing. What could he have meant? I cross my arms over my chest, though I know it is as immature as him holding the bottle over my head.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking." I retort, but I can tell by his expression that he will tell me nothing. I pout, though I'm not much of a pouter, because recently it would seem as if no one ever tells me anything, and when they do it is always on their own terms, in their own time. No one can just be honest with me. Haymitch pulls the rag away from my face and looks at the three little rips in my skin.

"What made you do this anyway?" He asks in a low rumbling voice, a voice like nails in a rusty can.

"I didn't want them to have my face anymore." I grunt softly, though I know it doesn't really make much sense. Whether or not Haymitch understands my babble he nods regardless and retrieves Band-Aids from the cupboard and sticks them to my face. I try not to cringe away from the smell of alcohol on his breath. Once the sticky tabs are on my cheek he walks over to the fridge and pulls a piece of god knows what and throws it to me. I look at it with my eyebrows arched, Haymitch growls unintelligibly.

"Put it on your face." He says and I obey, as I always do. It almost makes me want to laugh; do I know how to do anything but obey anymore? Do I even have any semblance of will now? In my mind I go through everything I have done in the past few years, and there is only one thing I have done for myself, one thing that wasn't created for me. Caring about Cinna is the only thing I feel the Capitol doesn't have their hands in now. I hold the piece of meat, or at least that is what I am most comfortable calling it, to my face and watch as Haymitch leans against the counter, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"So we got a week and a half until you become a blushing bride." I can see his fingers hesitate as they inch towards his bottle of white liqueur but he steadies them. He runs his hands over his face and crosses his arms. There is something very disturbed behind his eyes, something more than I had anticipated, and I allow myself a moment to be touched by his worry before I have to shove it back down once more.

"Yep." I say indifferently, though my need for the bottle had already proved how far from indifferent I am. I look at the bottle longingly, thinking of the numb relief it would give me. I take a deep breath. Haymitch is right, as always; numb is not what I need to be right now. I can't deflect a blow while numb. I take a few deep breaths before looking back up at him.

"So, what's our plan old man?" I ask, and the ghost of a smile flits across his face but it is gone quickly after it appeared.

"Who says there is a plan?" The twinkle in his eyes and the smirk on his lips tells me there is a plan, but I nod and play along. We both know how dangerous it could be if Snow thought we were planning some kind of defiance, even if it was just me trying to get out of his arranged marriage. If there is anything Snow does not take lightly it is being disobeyed. He crosses the room, placing either of his hands on my shoulders as he looks me dead in the eye. "All you need to do, Sweetheart, is heal up that pretty face of yours and get ready for Cinna." He says slowly. "He'll know what to do with you." I nod slowly. Haymitch has always had the crazy theory that Snow has tapped our homes, fitting them with cameras and microphones, but the longer I have had to observe the Capitol the more likely I find that.

How hard would it be for the builders of these Victor's Villages to simply plant a few bugs here and there? The entire house could be wired, and in most likeliness it is. Either way I wouldn't want to take a chance. All at once the weight of the day hits me. Alice's home coming, the news of Emmi and Ashley's death, Snow's visit, and my own realizations. I stumble under the weight of them and Haymitch grabs me by my arm, steadying me. "Easy now, Sweetheart." He mutters as he makes his way towards the door, half carrying me. "Let's get you home. You're going to need all the beauty sleep you can get."

"Ha ha ha." I laugh mockingly as I shove him off, walking the rest of the way home at a painstakingly slow pace. When I reach my door I realize that I am still holding the piece of meat, now warm, to my cheek. I toss it between two of the houses for some animal to snack on. I turn back towards Haymitch's house to find him standing in the door way, watching me walk home.

As always he is making sure I get home safely. I wonder if that is what he will do for the rest of his life.

I am asleep; I know I am asleep, because Peeta is standing before me. He is whole, healthy, and so very alive. I cannot, however, say that he is happy. His disapproving eyes stare me down and I can't help but avert my eyes from his. He shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "What are you doing, Katniss?" He asks me softly, and I stare down at my shoes.

"What do you mean?" I whisper, though I know what he means. He walks forward quickly and grabs my hand, forcing my Capitol engagement ring into the glimmering light that comes from nowhere.

"You're just going to lie down at take it?" I feel my cheeks burn with shame. "You've always been a fighter Katniss, since you were a child you've always been a fighter. Are you telling me you're not going to fight this?" Though my heart hammers at the feeling of my hand in his, even if it isn't real.

"What else can I do?" I ask. "It's not like I have a plan, and if anyone else does they're not telling me! Snow could kill everyone I love." I shake my head. "If I don't go along with it they are as good as dead."

"If you go along with this than you'll be dead!" He barks at me, and I startle. "You've been skimming along the surface for years, Katniss. This could very well be the thing that pulls you under." I rub my eyes.

"Things aren't all about me-"

"When it comes to you things are never about you!" He envelopes my face in his hands, forcing my eyes to meet his. "When have you ever done anything with only yourself in mind?" His eyes are so blue, so bright, they make my heart hurt. How can I remember eyes that vibrantly when they haven't seen in years?

"How can it be?" I cover his hands with mine, but there is no warmth there, that seems to be the one thing my memories can't recreate. "I'm not the only person in danger, Peeta. There's my mother and Prim and Cinna…" He seems to wince at Cinna's name but I simply classify it as my own internal conflict coming to life. Slowly he inches closer to me, pressing his forehead and nose to mine.

"You'll think of something." He places his hand on the back of my neck, holding me close. "You'll think of something."

When I wake I am in my bed and it is dark outside. There have been many times when I have woken before the sun before, but this does not feel like one of those times. Without looking at the sky, or a clock, I know that it is very early in the morning, and that no one else in the house will be awake. I sigh and shift in my bed, the silk sheets soft and cool against my skin. I can't help but wonder who helped me into bed, as I don't remember actually getting here. It was either my mother or Prim, most likely it was both. I wonder if they thought I was drunk, well my lack of a hangover in the morning will prove that theory wrong.

I turn over slowly, closing my eyes as I try to find sleep once more. But something feels different about the bed, something is strange. The tilt of the bed is wrong; the sheets are pulled a little too tightly. I stretch out my arms and nearly let out a scream when my hands come into contact with another body in the bed. I let out a loud gasp, though, and the person starts awake and hands grab mine. "Kat! Kat! Calm down, it's me!" Cinna hisses as he pulls me down to him, and though I know it is him my body is still reacting to the fear.

"God damnit, Cinna!" I say as I smack him. "You scared the crap out of me!" A low throaty laugh comes from his direction as I almost want to hit him again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I ask softly, trying to regain control of my wildly thrumming heart.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" Though his voice goes up at the end as if he's joking I can hear the tiniest hint of worry behind his voice. I quell his fears by settling back down curled into his side, burying my face in his chest.

"I'm always happy to see you." I chide. "I'm just a little surprised; after all I wasn't expecting you in District Twelve, let alone in my bed." I turn my head a little to look at him but there is nothing but darkness. "This isn't one of my nightmares, is it? You're not going to have a clown head, are you?" He chuckles as he takes my hand and holds it to his face. Sure enough his skin is as soft and flawless as always.

"Would you love me if I had a clown head?"

"Your appearance would never change the way I feel about you." I word carefully but I can tell even in this darkness that he is disappointed. Once again I find myself wishing I could love the gentle man before me, but if the heart worked on command everyone in the world would have happiness. For a long time neither of us say anything, and for a while I think it is because Cinna has fallen back asleep, but that assumption is quickly quelled.

"So I take it by your diversion that you're still not ready to love me." As always his words make me wince. I sigh and hold him a little tighter. Sometimes I don't think he realizes just how hard I try, and I'm glad for that. If he knew how hard I try to love him it would only hurt him more.

"I've got a lot on my mind." I don't bring up the whole engagement thing, as if he could ever forget it. I'm glad there isn't even the tiniest light in the room for the diamond to catch; I don't need it laughing in my face right now. I know I'm not going to find any comfort lying down, or any sleep for that matter, so I sit up instead; wrapping my arms around my knees. There's a moment when I'm afraid he'll leave, but instead he sits up and places his hand on my back.

"I shouldn't have said anything." He whispers, and instantly I feel frustration flare within me. Is there ever a time when Cinna isn't apologetic and understanding? I want him to be angry, and though I don't want him to leave I do want him to be as confused as I am. I want him to yell and be selfish and make mistakes, and not be so perfect! Though I know I could never deserve him Peeta wasn't perfect. I saw him get afraid, and angry, and just plain upset. I'd seen his moments of selfishness along with his selflessness, and though it is cruel of me to want Cinna to be anything other than what he is I can't help it.

"No, you should have." I argue, and he sits up as well. "This isn't fair to you." He wraps an arm around me but I shrug it off, and I'm glad I can't see his hurt expression in the dark.

"And what is the alternative?" He murmurs, and I can't think of one. I would never propose him finding someone else; he's the only thing I have I think of as truly mine. If I were to lose him it would drive me mad. A small voice in the back of my head screams for me to stop but now that I've begun I can't stop.

"I don't know." I breathe. "You deserve so much more." I wait for him to say what he always does, that he doesn't deserve me, but he doesn't.

"You didn't deserve being thrown in the Arena." He counters, and I shake my head. This is all Cinna ever does, rather than recognize his own problems he simply points out mine, as if they are so much worse.

"This isn't about me." Cinna laughs darkly.

"Of course it is!" For a moment there is a hint of anger in his voice but he douses it quickly and his voice is even once more. "You're the one who's walking down the aisle in a couple weeks-"

"And who will that be harder for, me or you?" As soon as I say it I regret it. I jam my eyes shut and take a deep breath as I realize the implications of my words. The silence between us is as thick as fog. "I… I didn't mean it like that." I mutter. "I just meant that it will mean nothing to me-"

"I know what you meant, Kat." He interrupts, but I can hear the shadow of sadness in his voice. "Don't worry; neither of us will have to go through that, we'll think of something." His arms wrap around me in the darkness and pull me back down. "Just… try to get a few more hours of sleep." He says and I nod, closing my eyes as he kisses my temple. I try to ignore the way he trembles, or the sniffles that come from his side of the bed. I've never seen Cinna cry and this is no exception. When I reach over to touch his face, to wipe away his tears, there are none there. He catches my fingers between his and brings them to his lips, and I grip him back. I don't want to lose him, but there is something inside of me that doesn't want to keep him either. He deserves so much more, and I know I will never be worthy of his love.

I find that I don't deserve most of the things people give me.


	18. Chapter 18

I'm lost in a great cloud of white. My arms are over my head, my feet screaming in my shoes, and I can hardly breathe in this damned contraption that's squeezing my waist. With about ten more minutes of wiggling, and cursing, and nearly toppling over sideways, the dress is finally settled down around me; I still have my back to the mirror. I don't want to see the dress; I don't want to see what I look like, so instead I watch as Cinna flits around me with pins in his mouth and what looks like tears in his eyes. He pinches the dress every here and there, sticking pins in places to keep show where my lack of eating has thrown his measurements. I place my hands on my stomach; I simply have had no appetite in the past week. My own wedding is in three days and everyone is worried that I won't be able to walk down the aisle without fainting. I think fainting would make a rather nice addition to the circus show this is going to be.

An hour later Cinna stands and places his hands on his hips, looking over me scrutinizingly. He wipes the sweat away from his eyes, but I can't help but wonder if he isn't really whipping away tears. "You're gorgeous." He breathes, and I shake my head.

"I wish I was hideous." For once Cinna nods in agreement with me. I take a deep breath and finally turn towards the mirror, and the dress causes me to gasp. The dress is off my shoulders with lacey sleeves that stay tight to my elbows before falling in long elegant folds that nearly touch the ground. The bodice is elaborately decorated with small glimmering diamonds that flow all the way down the front of the skirt to the floor. It is pinched at the waist and the skirt is so full I have to wear tons of petticoats and other itchy stupid things. This dress must have taken so many hours of stress and work. I run my hands over the silky white fabric, it weights a ton but it is so beautiful. How many nights has Cinna spent bent over the dress I would marry my mysterious fiancé in? Cinna retrieves my gossamer veil from his small work bench and fits it on carefully. I look away, my cheeks burning with shame I simply can't hold in.

He touches my shoulders gently, his eyes bearing into my face. Rather than meet his gaze I stare at the swirling design that graces the bottom of my veil. I can't look into his eyes, I just can't. "This is how it should be." He whispers, his hands running over the heavy beading on my arms. "You in this gown, me standing before you-" His hands travel down my arms to hold my hands. "Saying my own vows… That is how it should be." I feel my eyes begin to burn but I push back any thoughts of tears. I can't cry, not now. I can't allow my feelings to get in the way, to cloud my judgment. If I want to make it out of this with everyone I love alive I have to play it smart. I hardly have seventy-two more hours before I have to seal my life away, I only have seventy-two more hours to think of a plan.

"But it isn't." I say slowly, and the hope vanishes from his eyes, even though it was only the faintest of glimmers anyway.

"I know." He whispers dejectedly. "I just wish it was." I feel almost bad for saying anything at all.

"Me too." I amend, and he takes my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.

"At least, with you in the Capitol, I'll be able to see you every day." There is a touch of pain in his eyes, and I know that seeing me every day will really hurt him more than help him. To look at me every day and know I belong to another will destroy him, just as it will destroy me.

"We'll… we'll figure something out." He lets go of my face and steps back, his eyes trained down on the floor once more.

"You need to get changed." He murmurs as he unpins my veil and sets it aside. "I don't want you messing up your gown before everyone in Panem gets to marvel at you in it." He says before helping me undo the buttons in the back, and it would be a bit more sensual if we both weren't so dismally depressed. As soon as the buttons are done his hands do not linger on my bare flesh as I would have liked them to, they don't rub my shoulders or scratch my back, instead he side steps me and makes his way towards the door.

"Cinna-" I call out, and he stops, his shoulders scrunching up slightly. There are so many things I want to say, so many things I wish I could tell him. I wish I could tell him that I love him, that this is killing me just as much as it is killing him, but my words get caught in my throat. I stand there with my hand out stretched and all the words I wish to say dead on my tongue.

"If you could just… If you just…" He fumbles for his words almost as much as I do, but I know what he's trying to say, what he can't say because he's far to kind. "I'll see you tonight." He says before leaving the room, and I allow my arm to fall back to my side. I don't have the words to make him stay.

If I could just love him it would be worth all this trouble, I know that is what he meant to say. He didn't even have to begin to say it. I look down at my dress and suddenly I am so filled with rage I pull it off as quickly as I can before I tear it to shreds. I can't have anything, not a single thing, that is my own! Not even Cinna anymore. I set the gown on the table, knowing that one of the capitol maids Cinna brought with him will hang it up and make it ready for Cinna's ready needle. I quickly slip into a pair of britches and a thin shirt, shoving my feet into my supple leather boots before I throw the door open and storm out of the house into the open air.

It's getting cooler already; the trees that encase District Twelve are already a bright array of oranges and reds and yellows. I long to be amongst them, to slip outside the fence and pick the ripe apples I can see hanging from the trees. My fingers suddenly ache for my long lost bow, my heart hurts with longing just looking at them. I walk with quick sure steps until I'm standing in the meadow, looking at the long grass that's already begun to die from the early frost. It only seems fitting for it to be dead, but that's probably just my angst talking. As I look about the seam around me I try to keep the taste of bile out of my mouth. How horrible does it make me to wish that I still lived among them? How ungrateful am I that I would give up my life of food and warmth for the sickening uncertainty I had in the Seam? I sit slowly, feeling the dying grass underneath me crunch as I ease myself down.

If I had never volunteered for my sister, or better yet, if she had never been reaped I would still be here. I would live in the shanty a few houses down, I would hunt in the woods, I would sell meat in the Hob and deliver strawberries to the mayor. I wouldn't have to worry about a wedding or keeping the Capitol happy. I wouldn't have nightmares, but would I love Peeta? I look down, what would life be like if I had never loved Peeta? Surely it would have been easier to lose him if I had never had him at all. I shove the selfish thoughts out of my mind, there was no way to change the past, and even if I could I wouldn't. What I had with Peeta was marvelous while it lasted, even if I didn't realize it at the time. Not to mention I wouldn't know Cinna, and that in itself was worth all the pain.

For a long time I sit here sulking, allowing myself the pity party I so often deny myself of, btu I'm not very good at sulking. As nice as it is to sit in the meadow and long for things I can never have my butt starts hurting and my legs go numb and in all I just get to bored of sitting there in silence with my thoughts. I never have been very good company, not even to myself. In all my life I've never really had a talent at pity- parties. I simply can't sit still that long. I stand slowly, brushing grass and dirt off my pants before I turn towards home once more, shoving my hands into my pockets and staring at my feet to stop myself from looking at the forest. Rather than letting the forest tease me I turn towards home, occupying my mind with thoughts of how I could slip past the well charged gate into the trees.

The thought of sneaking into the woods carries me throughout District Twelve and I find myself in the Victor's Village a lot sooner than I would like to. Just as I step onto my street the front door of Alice's house bursts open and she runs out, screaming as if the Devil is hot on her heels. Without a second though I rush towards her, catching her in my arms as she goes to run past me. "Alice? Alice! What's wrong?" I ask, but she just keeps screaming. It is a horrible sound, a blood curling sound. She thrashes and howls like a scared wounded animal. I look up in fear, unsure of what to do in this situation. I meet her mother's eyes from the door, but the woman is sickly pale and her lips are trembling. I frown sympathetically at her; she doesn't know how to deal with her daughter, just as my mother didn't know how to deal with me. How can she calm the madness she doesn't understand, or comfort the nightmares she doesn't even know the depth of?

"The dog just dug a small hole in the back yard…" Alice's mother murmurs with eyes full of fear. "She took one look at it and ran out screaming…" I give Alice a tight squeeze and rub her back comfortingly as she wails against me.

"Alice, it's alright, it's okay." I whisper but she continued shaking her head.

"I killed him, I killed Darren. I let him fall down the hole! Down down down will come baby cradle and all." She yells, her hands jammed over her ears once more, and she keeps repeating it again and again. "Down will come baby, cradle and all. Down will come baby, cradle and all." There are tears streaming down her face and I hear my from door open. Prim must have heard the commotion because she is already starting across the lawn with a small medical kit in her hands.

"Get one of mom's calming… things!" I yell, but Prim doesn't seem to understand, I groan. How am I supposed to know what the damned thing is called? "Does she have a freaking sedative?" I yell, and Prim nods. "Then get it!" I growl, though I'm not angry. I cling to Alice as she screams and thrashes and repeats her nursery rhyme over and over again. I feel like I myself am going to go crazy just as Prim arrives with a bottle in her hands.

"Tip her head back." She demands and I do just that.

"Open your mouth, Alice." I command her, but she is off far away in her world of nightmares. She doesn't hear me; I doubt she even realizes I'm here. "How much does she need to drink?" I ask, prying the girl's teeth apart with my fingers.

"Just a couple drops." Prim murmurs as she takes the eyedropper lid off the bottle and slips it between Alice's lips, squeezing the black top slowly. "It'll just take a couple minutes." Carefully I lower myself to the ground, carrying Alice down with me. I cradle her in my lap as her thrashing subsides and her eyes eventually drift closed. Her mother walks forward cautiously, as if she is afraid of her own daughter, I wouldn't be surprised if she is.

"It was just a hole…" I whispers, and I stand, holding Alice in my arms like a baby.

"Things aren't that simple anymore." I mutter bitterly as I push past the woman and carry the girl up into her bedroom. I lay the girl down on her bed but leave her mother to tucking her in. Once outside I meet Prim in the yard, and I'm surprised that she isn't more shaken up than she seems. She must have been waiting for me, because she is facing the door with her little bag enfolded in her arms and an understanding look in her eyes.

"I'm sure mom could give her something for her nightmares." Prim says softly, and I nod. "She could give you something for yours as well." For a moment I allow myself to imagine what a peaceful nights sleep would feel like. Even though I have so few of those now-a-days I still won't accept any remedy from my mother. I don't want to forget, I don't want to be free. If I live my life just fine after all I've seen and done what would that make me? My nightmares keep my from becoming one of those Mentors who look forward to the Hunger Games, they remind me that all life has value, something I'm sure they forgot years and years ago.

"I'll pass." I mutter bitterly as I run my hands over my face. Prim takes my arm and leads me towards the house, and even though I don't want to go inside I allow her to take me anyway.

"You need to eat something." Prim says sweetly, but I grunt. "I'll make you something." She pulls me into the kitchen and sits me at the table as she begins flitting around, grabbing ingredients at random, or at least that's how it looks to me. I never have been very good at cooking, hell I've never been really good at anything other than hunting. I suppose that is a little sad but I'm not to heart broken by my inability to cook a roast. My future husband will just have to deal with that. "I hope you don't mind." Prim murmurs as she cooks. "But I saw the wedding gown." I look down at the table top, does she really expect me to eat when we're talking about this?

"I don't mind." I murmur. The wedding dress means nothing to me, so what does it mean if she's seen it.

"Cinna's really out done himself." She mutters, but I know she is just trying to make conversation. If this was a marriage I had chosen, something I was excited about, this conversation would be filled with giggling and cheer, but I didn't, so it's not.

"I really don't want to talk about this." I massage my eyes and she turns to look at me, and I notice for the first time that her long blonde hair is twisted over her shoulder in a single braid. When had she stopped wearing it in two? For a moment I fall back into the Seam, and I see the little girl with pig tails and wide blue eyes that I had volunteered for.

"Alright." She says and cooks in silence. After a while she brings me a plate of chicken and rice. I eat slowly, without really tasting, and avoid Prim's face at all costs. I've heard her sniffle a few times and I know she's crying. I can't look at her, if she cries I'll cry. When I've finished half the plate and pushed away the rest Prim rounds the table and sits on the ground in front of me, resting her head in my lap. I stroke her hair as she cries, tears rolling down my own cheeks as I watch her. "I wish I could save you." She sobs into my leg. "I'd do anything to stop-" She begins but she's crying too hard to finish it. I feel my heart ache as I look at her. All my life I have loved Prim more than anyone or anything, but I had never stopped do think that she loved me that much as well.

"It'll be alright." I breathe, and it seems weird to be comforting Prim when I am the one staring down the barrel of the gun.

"Not this time, Katniss." She looks up at me, her blue eyes watery and red. "This time-"

"Shh." I touch her face gently. "If I survived the Games I can survive this." A bitter laugh gurgles its way out of her.

"You were never the same after that." She shakes her head. "You won't be the same after this either." I frown as I wrap my arms around her once more.

"I know." I breathe close my eyes. "I know."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Here is it! What you've all been waiting for! The Wedding! You will finally find out who Katniss's secret fiancé is, and I hope is surprises all of you! Please review and let me know what you think, I've been so excited for this moment! I hope it doesn't let you down! **

I've never, in all of my life, seen so many people in one space at one time. For my wedding they decided that there was no official building large enough to fit the mass onslaught of Capitol Citizens all vying for a chance to see me, in person, on my special day. My wedding will be held on the steps of President Snow's Mansion, and the Chariot's path through the Capitol is my aisle. Within the Training Center I watch on a small screen as citizens pour by the thousands in the viewing stands, all dressed in their best and filled with glee. Many of them are dabbing their eyes, after all, who doesn't cry at weddings?

I for one, do not. I stand with a steely resolve on my silver chariot, watching the snow white stallions paw at the concrete floor impatiently. My old team flits around my like small birds, picking at pieces of me, putting ribbons and pieces of fabric in their place. "Oh this is so wonderful." Flavius blubbers, his eyeliner has already begun running.

"Stop it!" Venia snaps as she swats at him with the little stick she's been using to make sure all my curls are falling just right. "If you get a single tear on her gown I will throttle you myself!" She threatens, but I don't move.

"Nervous?" Octavia asks as she touches up my makeup for the millionth time. They were initially off set by my silence but they loosened up, giggling and sighing at the thought of my 'cold feet'.

"Yeah." I mutter, though I'm sure she's asked me something else as well that I didn't bother listening to. She sighs contently and grins, dabbing my lips with some shimmering red gloss that is supposed to make my lips more plump. All it does, however, is make them tickle. Carefully Flavius wipes his tears on the back of his sleeve and goes about pinning diamonds into my hair, weaving them carefully to make sure they will be able to support my veil.

"It seems like just yesterday we were waxing your legs for the first time." Venia sighs, and I swear I see tears glimmering in her eyes. "You've grown up so much!" Her lip trembles and for a moment I fear she's going to start crying too. Octavia shoots her a look.

"Honestly, looking at the two of you, you'd think this was her funeral not her wedding!" I laugh, and though Octavia looks pleased that I appreciate her wit I don't even send her a glance. She doesn't know just how appropriate her words are. After all, it would seem that today is the funeral of the few things in my life that were still good. Today everything about me dies one way or another. "Is Cinna here yet?" She asks after a moment of silence.

"I haven't seen him all day." Flavius shrugs as if it is nothing to worry about. "He trusts us to have her looking her best." I feel a sharp pain in my chest, and I grip the chariot to stop myself from doubling over. They haven't seen Cinna? I tighten my grip on the Chariot's handle and swallow the lump in my throat. I had been hoping to see him one last time before… before I say 'I do'. How could he abandon me in such a time? How could he go missing now? Venia glances at my white knuckles and puts her hand over them, looking at me with genuine concern in her eyes.

"Hey, it's alright. There is nothing to worry about, you look beautiful, and the man you love is waiting at the end of the aisle for you! Just think of that and you'll be just fine!" She smiles encouragingly but I find I can't even fake it for her. I can't look at her and grin and nod and pretend this is something I want. Instead I close my eyes and take a deep breath. A gasp behind me makes me turn quickly.

"Oh Katniss." Effie says; her fingers over her lips and tears of pain in her eyes. My team must think they're tears of joy because they step back and smile self-appreciatively. "May I have a moment with the bride?" She asks the team, her voice trembling slightly.

"Of course, but make it quick. She's got-" Flavius looks down at his wristwatch. "Five minutes before the doors open!" Each in turn my team members flit forward and kiss me on the cheek, Octavia presses my bouquet into my hands and wishes me well before following the others away. As soon as they are gone Effie takes a few steps forward, her arms around her stomach as she looks at me.

"I'm so so so sorry." Effie whispers, and I look down at my feet. Earlier there had been cameras here so the people of Panem could look back on the "Before the Wedding" while I am on my Honeymoon, but they are all gone now. It is just Effie and I now, alone, in this giant room.

"It's not your fault." I shrug nonchalantly but she doesn't fall for it. She takes a few tentative steps forward, brushing her fingers against my cheeks.

"This is… this is wrong." She mutters, and I can see the conflict growing in her eyes. Her desire to believe the Capitol really knows best raging against the growing knowledge that it doesn't. Never before have I seen her looking so frightened, so confused.

"Well there's nothing we can do to make this right." I look towards the great metal doors. They will swing open any second and I'll be forced to ride through the streets with a smile on my face. "Have you seen Cin-" I'm cut off my the door on the other end of the room opening and my head snaps in that direction in hope, but that hope is replaced by repulsion. It is not Cinna entering the room, it is President Snow.

"Never have I seen a lovelier bride!" President Snow says loudly for the cameras following him. I force a smile onto my face, though it is obvious that it is a little forced. Not as if it matters, they will simply think I'm a nervous, blushing bride.

"Thank you Mr. President." I blush; glad to see that even in this time I can still pretend, it is the only thing that will save me in the days, years, to come.

"Miss Trinket, are you alright?" He asks, though there is a hint of a threat in his voice. She laughs brokenly, placing her hand on mine.

"It's just… They grow up so fast, don't they?" She cries, and a camera man hands her a handkerchief that she uses to dab her eyes. "I'll see you at the reception Katniss." She says as she steps onto the Chariot and kisses my cheek, while there she whispers "be strong" in my ear before touching my face affectionately and trotting off.

"What did she say?" President Snow asks, and I look down.

"She reminded me to smile. I've been… I'm so nervous." I say and the camera team lets out a collective sigh. President Snow walks forward and steps up onto my Chariot, taking my hands in his. I grin to hide how much it disgusts me.

"Of course you are. You're young; it's your wedding day. Who wouldn't be nervous?" I giggle and nod. He looks up at the screen in the corner and smiles.

"Alright, let us begin." He says and the doors open. I look at him in confusion, expecting him to step down from the Chariot but he doesn't. He notices my confusion and takes my hand, threading my arm through his. "Didn't I mention I'll be giving you away?" He asks, and there is a challenging look in his eyes, as if he's begging me to argue.

"I'd be honored." I say as the chariot begins to move and the ride begins.

As soon as the Chariot is out the door all of the Capitol is on their feet, screaming and cheering and cry and showering us in rose petals. I smile at them, as much as I can smile, and wave from my stance in the chariot. I am surprised to find how much I lean into Snow for support as the horses trot through the streets. More than once I feel my knees go weak as it continues moving, and I'm sure I'd fall if it weren't for him beside me. All at once I think of the last man who had held me up in a similar chariot, with similar people around me. My eyes tear up but I push them back, I can't let them see, I can't let them know. For a moment I allow myself to imagine Peeta is waiting for me at the end of the aisle, the smile on his face when he sees me is heart breaking, the way he reached for me without even moving. I feel my heart hammer in my chest. If only-

I grip my bouquet with new found fury, it's their fault that he's not there waiting for me. It's their fault he's dead. I smile and I wave but on the inside a familiar fire is lit within me. They stole Peeta away from me, they took him before his time! I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming. It's all going to end, everything is going to end. They took Peeta away and now they're taking Cinna too! I feel something inside of me keening and writhing, begging to be released. Cinna; sweet, caring, understanding Cinna, this was going to kill him. I catch a glance at myself in a screen, and I can't help but smirk. I look beautiful, hardly like myself at all, and though my smile is shy there is a fire in my eyes, a fury that must look like excitement. The Capitol loves it, but if I had my way they would all drop dead, and no one would be left standing but Cinna and I.

Almost as soon as I think it I find him in the crowed. We are almost to the Mansion's circle now and he is standing with Haymitch looking as handsome as I have ever seen a man looking. His eyes meet mine and I am surprised by what I find there. Not hopelessness or pain, but determination. There is a look of knowledge in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. He gives me a slow nod and I return it. He has a plan, they both do, they have to! I feel hope rise in me as I look towards Snow's mansion. I can see my future husband's back as I come closer, he is a tall man, and even from behind I know I have seen him before.

As the Chariot comes to a stop President Snow steps down and offers me his hand. I take it carefully and hold the front of my dress as I make the small step down, careful not to tread on Cinna's beautiful creation. With painstakingly slow steps President Snow leads me towards my future husband and the official looking man presiding over our wedding. He grins as he looks at me. "Who gives this woman away?" He asks, and President Snow pretends to get chocked up for a moment. He takes both of my hands and turns to look at me.

"Since your victory I have grown more and more fond of you, Miss Everdeen." He begins softly. "And though I know you wish your father was still alive to be here I cannot help but say that I am so glad to have this chance. You are like the daughter I never had." I sigh along with the whole capitol, and I even pretend to wipe away a tear.

"And you are the closest thing I've had to a father these past four years." I murmur and President Snow kisses my hands before lowering my veil and handing me to my groom. As we turn to face each other I feel my breath catch in my throat, unable to believe who is standing before me.

"You?" I whisper, my lips barely moving.

His grin broadens. "Me."

My mind is reeling in disbelief, though I do not show it on my face. Him? How could it be him? I never imagined that my groom, the man who bought me, would be someone I know! We both turn towards the man presiding over our wedding with lingering glances. What must the Capitol have thought when they learned who he was? What must they have said? The man sighs as he begins his speech about love and the power of it. I try to look simpering and hopeful but I find it hard to mask my shock. In the weeks since I learned I would be married I have imagined a million different possibilities, a million different candidates, but I had never imagined it would be him.

The man drones on and on about the importance of love and blah blah blah, but I find that I can't focus. I can't listen to him. So when he asks me if 'I do' I start for a moment before nodding and repeating it back emotionlessly. He grins at me softly before turning to my groom. "And do you take this woman to be your wife?" He asks, and he turns to look at me with such a convincing look of love in his eyes I feel my stomach roll.

"I do." He whispers and we turn to face each other.

"Then I now present you, to all of Panem, as husband and wife! You may kiss your bride." The official tells him and he doesn't waste time. He lifts my veil and sets it back over my hair. With his hands on either side of my face he presses his lips to mine, and I place my hands on his chest to stop myself from slapping him. The crowd roars its approval around us, and when I turn to face them I see that they are on their feet once more, only this time they are throwing rice instead of petals. Together my husband and I hold our hands in the air, and I try not to allow my hatred show on my face. Still, I remind myself of Cinna's sure look, and I smile. He has a plan, he knows what he is doing, he and Haymitch both. There aren't two people in the world I trust more than the two of them, and if they both have their hands in this plan then I know it cannot fail.

The wedding banquet is filled with people I've never seen before hugging me and crying and wishing me well. Even a few of my friends from the Districts were allowed to come and wish me well. Finnick kisses my cheek before apologizing to my husband and winking at the crowed. My mother hugs me tightly to her as she cries, but I'm sure the people of Panem simply shrug off her distress, mothers always cry at their daughters weddings, after all. Haymitch pressed his lips to the top of my head and shakes my husband's hand. Cinna keeps his distance, and I'm glad for that. After all, this whole event is being televised. What would Panem think if I throw myself into his arms, as I know I would be defenseless against doing?

For hours we eat and dance and champagne flows. While the people became dizzy in their revelry I never have more than a sip, and out of the corner of my eye I realize that neither does my husband. When the time comes for us to say goodbye to the people and retire to our wedding suite I find myself dressed in a white dress that was much easier to move in than my gown. We wave and grin and shout back at the crowd that shouts at us. Suddenly my husband sweeps me off my feet, and I let out a surprised shriek as he carries me away from the room. I turn back and wave and giggle at the crowd. They can hardly contain themselves as they wave back at me, shouting well wishes and love.

Just as the wedding and the reception were in Snow's Mansion so is our wedding suit. Tomorrow morning we will get on a Hovercraft that will take us on our Honeymoon. We will start at District Twelve and work out way down the districts, spending a night in each so the people can celebrate with us. As we enter the room, me in his arms, I feel fear suddenly pulse through me. The bed is heart shaped and covered in flowers. The whole room is decorated with hearts and roses and other things that make me want to gag. There is even a hot tub sunken into the floor! I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. There is champagne, chocolates, everything to make this a romantic night to remember.

Carefully he sets me down on my feet and turns towards the door. He locks in swiftly before pulling something out of his pocket. He places the small square device on the door and presses a few buttons. Within the second the object whirls and clicks, the light on it turns from red to green. I look at it in confusion as my husband turns to look at me, a devious smile on his face. I fist my hands at my sides, I've never been with a man other that Cinna, and I sure as hell don't want to be. My husband leans back against the door and gives me a once over. "Finally, we're alone." He says as he pushes his graying hair back. He takes a few steps closer to me and I take a step back, at this he grins and laughs. "Oh please, you don't have to be afraid Miss Everdeen; I thought you would have figured it out by now."

I narrow my eyes at him, Miss Everdeen? What the hell was he on about? "Figured out what?" I ask and he laughs once more. He closes the distance between us and gently takes ahold of my arms.

"I just have one question for you, Miss Everdeen." I nod to show him that I will answer him, and he leans closer to me, his lips against my ear. I shiver at the feeling of his breathe on my neck. "What, exactly, do you know of our long lost District Thirteen, Miss Everdeen?" Plutarch Havensbee asks as he pulls away from me; and the grin on his lips gives me such a burst of hope I cannot help but laugh.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hello Lovelies! I just wanted to take this time to… warn you. I know you shouldn't drop two bombs in two chapters but… this has all been planned out from the very beginning so… forgive me for all the feels you're about to feel. I beg of you, please review the chapter when you finish reading it. I'm dying to know what you guys think of this particular…. Bomb….**

When I wake in the morning the sun has already begun filtering in through the blinds, and Plutarch is snoring monstrously in the chair beside the bed. I sit slowly; rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands as the night before, the day before, all comes rushing back to me. At the thought of it I can't help but smirk, there was a plan, from the very beginning there was a plan, and even if I wasn't included in it, even if I wasn't let in I can't bring myself to be angry, not when I'm so relieved. I stretch my arms over my head and listen as my joints pop. Though this heart shaped bed is probably the most comfortable thing I've ever slept on the thought of what Snow had imagined we'd do in it quickly makes me throw the covers off and slip out of it.

With careful steps I cross the room and find there is a small sitting area already filled with the things I will need for my trip. I cross the room slowly; still wearing the silky night gown I had found in the drawers of our Honeymoon suite, and grab the phone resting on the table. There is only one person I want to see, one person I want to share my relief with. As soon as I pick up the phone and hold it to my ear a cheerful voice on the other end speaks up. "Good morning, Mrs. Havensbee!" She chimes and I gag. "It is exactly six o' four in the morning, it is currently fifty-four degrees outside and your hovercraft leaves in an hour and fifty-six minutes." She sounds so happy with herself that I shake my head.

"Please send in my Stylist." I say quickly before hanging up the phone, and I wonder if the girl on the other side is disappointed with my lack of gusto. Oh well, everyone in the Capitol knows of my hatred of mornings, I can't imagine they'd throw up a fuss at me being rude at six in the morning. Quietly I creep back over to the door separating the sitting room and the bedroom and close it carefully, turning just as a knock comes at the door.

"Who is it?" I ask, though I know who it is.

"Kat… Really?" Cinna sighs from the other side of the door, but I can hear the smile in his voice. I grin, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm sorry, but I've just woken up and I'm still a little drowsy, who's there?" I cover my mouth to suppress my giggle. I simply cannot help but tease him, as I had been so incapable of anything even closely related to playful these past weeks. I hear something hit the door softly and I'm nearly certain Cinna's hit his head against it.

"It's too early for this, Katniss." Cinna groans and I walk over to the door and open it. As soon as there is enough room he slips inside and wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips against mine with such force that I actually jump slightly. Before I even have time to relax into the kiss, however, Cinna is standing at arm's length, his eyes traveling over my scantily clad body. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you." He murmurs, and I roll my eyes in response.

"So, I take it from your display and that little nod yesterday that you were in on this whole thing." I whisper, even though Plutarch has assured me that the small device on the door of the other room with interfere with any kind of listening device within the room I still can't shake the fear of being caught. Cinna touches his finger tips to my chin and smiles.

"I was told just before the wedding took place." He breathes, and I can't help but smile at him, leaning into his touch as his hand moves to my cheek. "I suppose Plutarch was worried that I might try something desperate at your wedding."

"Would you have?" I ask with an arched brow, and Cinna grins.

"I guess we'll never find out." The door between the two rooms opens and Plutarch stumbles out, still wearing his suit from the night before but with the top few buttons undone and his hair askew.

"Up bright and early, aren't we my dear?" Plutarch drones as he wipes his hands over his face. It is obvious that he isn't used to early mornings, but as I believed\ it no Capitol citizen is, accept maybe Cinna and Effie. A sudden thought hits me, and I turn towards Plutarch.

"Effie, does she know?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"No, only those who positively know must do. We all believed that Cinna would be of invaluable use to the rebellion, along with knowing he would want a part in it." Just as I had Plutarch speaks in a hushed voice.

"So, she isn't coming?" I am surprised by how much my heart sinks in my chest. Plutarch crossed the room and sits himself down in a plush looking recliner. I lower myself into the couch across from him and Cinna takes his place at my side, on arm around my shoulders and the other holding my hands.

"No, I'm afraid we couldn't think of a valid reason for bringing her on the Hovercraft." He says with a slightly regretful tone. "You see, my dear, the plan is a rather simple one. Snow will do anything to hide the existence of District Thirteen, so we are going to stage a very obvious attack. A hovercraft from thirteen with shoot ours out the air, and of course it would appear as if there were no survivors." He takes a moment to yawn before continuing. "You and I would be going on our honeymoon, Cinna would come along as your stylist for the trip, Haymitch and your mother and sister would simply be hitching a ride back to Twelve, which is our first stop." He reached forward and grabs a water off the table between us, breaking the seal quickly to take a deep drink of it. "All six of us, along with the crew, will be safely aboard the District Thirteen craft when the Capitol one is shot down, but they will not know that. They will believe we were all killed instantly." He nods, obviously very pleased with himself and his plan, and I don't blame him. It is a brilliant one.

"You really think this will work?" I ask, leaning forward on my knees as I look at him. If this fails there will be nothing that can save us. The Capitol's love for me will not excuse high treason. "I mean, won't the Capitol take it as District Thirteen inciting a second rebellion? Won't it put them in danger?" Plutarch simply waves his hand.

"A necessary evil." He says simply. "President Coin, the leader of District Thirteen, is well aware of the dangers and is prepared to deal with them. This plan has been in motion for years, Miss Everdeen, and precautions have been made. All that is needed of you is that you smile and wave for the Cameras as we say our goodbyes, for now." I furrow my eyebrows at his 'for now'.

"And later?" I ask. "What will be needed of me later?" The smirk on his face causes me to seriously consider if I am trusting the right person.

"All in due time, Miss Everdeen. All in due time." I turn sideways to look at Cinna, and I feel the suspicion within my melting away at the hope in his eyes.

"It will all work out, Kat." He whispers, his thumb running over the back of my hand. I feel my defenses break down and I nod my head.

"Well, we better get ready then." I say as I look towards the clock. "The Hovercraft leaves in a little more than an hour and a half." I say and Cinna stands, crossing the room to a garment bag I hadn't even notice he had dropped by the door. Plutarch stands and nods.

"You are doing your country a great service, Miss Everdeen." I narrow my eyes at him.

"By smiling and waving?" He grins once more before nodding his head.

"As I said, for now." With that he turns and leaves the room. I shake my head as I watch him go, once the door is closed behind him I turn and look at Cinna.

"I don't like him." I mutter. "He reminds me of a snake." I cross the room to where he is standing, taking a soft purple dress out of the bag. "A fat one." I add, and Cinna scoffs. The sound entices a smile from me, but I try to mask it.

"Yes, maybe, but he knows what he's doing." He says as he turns to me, motioning for me to take off the nightgown. I respond without a second thought, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he hands me my undergarments. My skin feels hot where his eyes fall but I ignore it, dressing quickly in whatever he hands me as I pull my hair over my shoulder.

I know the answer before I ask the question, but I still feel it tumble off my lips. "You're really willing to leave everything?" I ask, as it really does seem too good to be true. "Your home? Everything you've ever known?" He laughs bitterly and shakes his head as he hands me my 'wedding band'.

"I know far too much for this to ever be a home." He mutters as he watches me slip it onto my finger. "In a couple hours you'll never have to wear that again." He breathes and I can't help but grin.

"I won't miss it." I say as I look down at it. "I really won't." I pick up a small trinket on the table beside me and play with it for a moment.

"What if someone else gave it to you?" Cinna asks, and I freeze. "What if I did?" I slowly put down the small metal object.

"One thing at a time, Cinna." I say softly, turning my eyes away from him so I won't have to look at his disappointment.

"Right, of course." I can almost feel him deflate with his words. "Forget I said anything." He comes up behind me and hands me jewelry. I clip them into place without thought, though it does strike me as odd. Usually he does this, as it is an excuse to touch me. I turn and stare at his back as he retreats to the other side of the room, leaning against the table by the door. "Well," he says with a bitter smile. "Let's get you ready to die."

It takes me a few moments of staring at the Hovercraft before I can finally make my way over towards the ladder. The last time I had ridden in one of these was just after my game, when they pulled me out of the arena. I walk with slow, careful steps. My mother and sister and all the rest are already on board, waiting for me to finally puck up the courage to get inside. I feel a cold shiver move down my spine, since my last ride I've had a semi-irrational fear of them. The fear that it would crash and I would be burned alive always creeps into my mind. I fear I will die and then there will be no more survivors of the 74th annual Hunger Games, and I'm not quite ready to meet my fellow tributes just yet.

I swallow the lump in my throat slowly and reach forward, touching the ladder with delicate fingers. As always an electric current runs through my body and I am paralyzed. I feel the ladder move beneath me, pulling me up into the belly of the beast. Once inside Cinna turns off the current and pries me off the bars. With ridged movements I sit between him and my mother, and I hope they don't notice that I'm trembling slightly. "Everyone ready for take off?" Plutarch asks and we all nod. Cinna threads his fingers through mine as the machine hums to life. One moment we are motionless on the ground and the next the hovercraft is zooming through the air so smoothly I can hardly feel it moving at all.

"You alright, Katniss?" Prim whispers from over my mother, reaching her hand out to touch my arm. I nod, sinking my teeth into my lower lip as my heart hammers in my chest. What if it crashes? What if there is some kind of gas leak? What if it catches on fire? What if all three things happen at once? While the others talk pleasantly amongst themselves I lean my head back against my head rest and close my eyes, counting the moments before this hell ride is over. The longer we're in the air the greater my anxiety grows until it is as if someone has poured ice water into my veins.

Brunch is served after about an hour in the air, and yet I cannot touch anything. No matter how much Cinna coaxes and pleads I simply can't imagine putting anything into my stomach that is already twisting and turning.

"I should have brought something for motion-sickness." My mother chides herself as she nibbles on some kind of tart. I try to give her a brave smile but it actually comes out as more of a grimace. I don't trust opening my mouth to speak; I don't trust that I won't lose last night's dinner all over their shoes.

"Approaching destination." A voice over an intercom says, and my heart leaps into my chest, but then I remember that only means we are near District Twelve, then I will just have to climb into another Hovercraft. I close my eyes once more and focus on my breathing, trying to ignore the sensation of decent.

"We're almost there Katniss." Cinna whispers as he strokes my hand. "We've flown all the way from the Capitol to District Twelve in only a few hours, we'll be to District Thirteen faster than you'd think." He kisses my temple but it doesn't comfort me. I'm too busy trying not to scream to take comfort in him.

When I feel the Hovercraft land I grip the seat beneath me to stop myself from throwing myself at the door of the craft. After a few moments the door opens and a man in all white stands there, smiling kindly at all of us. "This way, please." He says as he motions out the door. As expected I am the first off, rushing to the safety of the clearing we've landed in. Even though it is not my forest it is still so similar a feeling of peace washes over me. My eyes scan the trees all around me, how wonderful it feels to be back in their loving arms, kind of. I would rather be amongst them, climbing them and shooting what hides within them, than going to District Thirteen. I would rather be free.

"I need everyone in the Hovercraft before we begin the destruction of this one." The man says, and I feel my heart sink in my chest. "For safety." It is then that I notice the thick angry looking guns handing on the wings of the District Thirteen craft, and I can't help but notice how weak and small the Capitol's Hovercraft looks in comparison.

"Wonderful." I mutter under my breath but allow Cinna to usher me over towards the new ladder. This time, however, it doesn't freeze me. I climb up into the cool stomach of the craft and help the others below me up as well. Once everyone is inside the craft stirs to life and rises in the air. Once up it turns around to face the other machine. Without warning it unloads its guns on the Capitol ship, pushing it back a few feet as well as causing it to catch fire. I watch in curiosity as the Capitol insignia melts off the side. All too quickly, however, the craft is setting off once more, and we are on our way to District Thirteen.

"The Capitol will already know of the 'crash'." Plutarch says as he straps himself into his seat, adjusting the seat belt length to fit over his girth. "Every Hovercraft has built in sensors that will alert the Capitol should it ever come under fire." He smirks. "Thankfully we'll be in Thirteen long before they get there."

"Lucky us." I grumble moodily as I lean my head back once more and close my eyes. I count my breaths, measuring them each slowly as the Hovercraft flies through the air. To my surprise Plutarch and Cinna were right; we're hardly in the air for more than an hour before I feel it descending.

Unable to stop myself I lean forward in my seat, my heart racing for a whole new reason. All my life I had believed District Thirteen had been obliterated, and yet that is exactly where I am headed! A slightly shaky landing causes my breath to catch in my throat, and yet when the door opens it is as if the hammering stops. A woman steps onto the craft, wearing a crisp uniform with gray hair slicked down. By her posture and scheming eyes I can tell immediately who she is. "I am President Coin," she says in an articulate voice. "And I would like to personally welcome you to District Thirteen." Her eyes find me and I can tell she is already sizing me up.

"This is the girl you spoke of, Plutarch?" She asks as if I am not even there, and I narrow my eyes.

"Yes, Madam President." He stands and moves to her side. "This is Katniss Everdeen." She hums for a moment before moving to stand before me, her hand extended. I stand and take her hand, shaking it once before letting it go.

"I've heard so much about you, Miss Everdeen." She says with arched brows, as if she doesn't seem to believe what she had been told. "I believe I speak on behalf of all of District Thirteen when I say we are all very pleased to have you here." She says before turning and exiting the craft. I look back at Cinna and make a face but he simply shrugs his shoulders. I follow her out into the sunlight, as it would seem that was what she had intended for me to do, and down into a bunker.

I can see now why District Thirteen has made it all these years. There is nothing on the surface but small buildings that could hardly house more than a few families, but what I find as we descend into the earth is astonishing. It would be very hard to invade Thirteen, because it is entirely underground. I follow the President, who is walking at a very brisk pace, down into the bowls of the earth. Once we make it to an elevator she presses a few buttons and the doors open. Unlike the glass elevators of the Capitol this one was obviously not made to be ascetically pleasing. It is plain metal, made to complete a job it does very well. Once the rest of our little party makes it to the elevator we all step inside, rather snuggly, I might add, and Coin presses another series of numbers. I try to follow her fingers but I find the sequence is too long and her movements too fast.

With a lurch the Elevator begins its decent and we all stand around in a thick awkward silence. I find Cinna's hand in the cramp quarters and give it a squeeze. A look in his direction allows me to see the hope in his eyes, and I can't help but feel a bit of it rising in me as well. Here he and I can be together, we do not have to hide our relationship or pretend that it doesn't exist. Here we are free to be as we are. When the lift comes to a stop President Coin steps out and beacons us all to follow her. "This way." She says as she directs us down a long hallway. I release Cinna's hand and continue down the path hot on the President's heels, wondering where she is leading us. Though I know it is unlikely I sincerely hope it is not some kind of purifying or decontamination room. While I know that sounds silly I can't help but think that it would fit with these pristine silver and white walls. Honestly, how they keep them some clean I will never understand.

We pass through another set of doors into what looks like, to my great relief, a dining hall. People are mulling about slowly, carrying trays of food to long squat tables before sitting down to eat. They seem to freeze what they are doing to look at me, their eyes wide and full of excitement, full of hope. I stand a little taller, what is it these people expect of me? Their eyes are so joyful I find I have to look away, so I stare at their food instead. It looks nothing like the delicacies of the Capitol, though it looks a hell of a lot better than squirrel or wild dog. Not that there is anything wrong with either of those-

"Katniss…" The whole world stops spinning. My body goes ridged but my mind moves at a hundred miles per hour. I feel my breath catch in my throat as I blink rapidly; trying desperately to process the voice I have just heard. I remember it so well, the lilt of it, the feel of it, the way it always seemed to caress my name. I've heard it a million times in my dream, but to hear it out loud again… I try to swallow the lump in my throat but find that it is as dry as a bone. Slowly I turn around, inch by inch, and find that the people behind me have all split to the sides, giving me a perfect view of the owner of that voice. Tears blur my vision as my eyes find him; standing behind me, looking older but so very much alive, is Peeta Mellark.

The whole world pitches sideways just before everything goes black.


	21. Chapter 21

When I wake again I am not alone. My eyes flutter open slowly, stressing against the bright florescent lights in the room. I groan as I turn onto my side and for a moment I am actually a little surprised to find Haymitch sitting beside me with his head in his hands. "You look about as bad as I feel." I say in a gravelly voice and Haymitch looks up, a small smirk on his face.

"Yeah, but you look worse than I feel, Sweetheart." He mumbles and I roll my eyes. I doubt I can look much worse than he does. He is pale with black circles under his eyes, and I quickly realize what is turning his cheeks a little green. I wonder when the last time he had a drink was, but I don't want to bring it up, Haymitch always gets so touchy when he's sober. The pounding in my head makes it hard to focus on anything but I try my best to ignore it and sit up slowly. My eyes sweep around the room. White floor, white walls, white ceiling; the whole room is so sterile feeling I'm afraid I'm contaminating it with my presence.

"What happened?" I ask, and Haymitch sits up, running his fingers through his hair.

"You took a nasty little spill when…" His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "You hit your head when you fainted." Suddenly the realization of the day before hits me full force. Alive. Peeta is a live. After all these years of longing and yearning, loving a man I thought was dead, he is alive.

"Peeta's alive." I whisper, and Haymitch nods his head. I can tell by the look in his eyes that this is affecting him as well, how could it not? All these years he added Peeta to the list of those he could not save because he chose me over him, and now he is alive. My head pounds a little more furiously. "How?"

"I think… I think it would be best if Plutarch explains it." He says as he stands and walks over towards the door. "Lemmi see if I can go catch him." He slips out of the room before I have a chance to stop him. I shift awkwardly in my bed, covering myself with my blanket as I wait. I touch my head gingerly and find a rather good sized goose egg at my temple. I suck in a breath and wince at the pain of it and lower my hand, that must have been one hell of a fall. To pass the time I take to counting the white tiles on the ceiling. I'm up to thirty-seven when the door opens suddenly and Haymitch reenters with Plutarch, and I can tell by the looks on their faces that they're ready for a fight. As the door closes I see the flash of someone outside the door, but they don't try to come in.

"How are you feeling, Miss Everdeen?" Plutarch asks, but I don't feel like observing formalities today.

"How is Peeta alive?" I ask through gritted teeth, because I know if I give my jaw the freedom I will simply yell ar the top of my lungs. "And why wasn't I told?" Plutarch takes the seat beside my bed and leans forward on his knees, his hands clasped.

"It is a rather extraordinary story." He says and takes a moment to compose his thoughts. He sighs and turns to glance at the door before meeting my eyes once more.

"Back in your game, when you went to the feast to get Peeta the medicine to heal his blood poisoning, I saw an opportunity. You see, in that time my duty as a Game Maker was to sound the cannon and remove the bodies from the arena." He takes a deep breath. "Peeta's heart rate was already so slow, and I was afraid you weren't going to be fast enough, and even if you were I knew of Seneca's plan to revoke the alteration anyway." I glare at him; they had planned to revoke the alteration that said two Tributes from the same District could go home together? Fire lights in my blood as anger from the false hope flares within me, even if it was years ago the knowledge of being tricked in such a way angers me. "And I wanted you both alive."

"Why?" I ask through narrowed eyes. "What was so important about us?"

"You had already caused such a stir in the Districts, as far as they knew you two had caused the alteration entirely on your own. You showed them that two children could stand together and the Capitol would bend." He leans forward slightly. "If two kids from lowly Twelve could do it why not everyone?" I see the spark of rebellion in his eyes, but I don't understand it. He is Capitol why would he want a rebellion? Wouldn't that just make things harder for him?

"What's in it for you?" He leans back slightly, as if surprised by my question. "If the Districts rebel what is in it for you?"

"I am an opportunist, my dear girl." He says simply. "And I believe things aren't working the way they are. I believe it is time for a change in the way we run this land of ours." Rather than question him about his motives any farther I shake my head.

"But I saw his body." I remember the day of his funeral, the day his body was sunken into the cemetery of District Twelve. I remember the hatred in his mother's eyes as she looked at me, the look that blamed me, I remember the horrible numbness I had been unable to shake "I was at his funeral." I add, and Plutarch smiles deviously.

"That was a bit of ingenuity on my part." He boasts. "You see, those Mutts in the arena this year, the ones that looked like the loved ones of the Tributes, were not the first of their kind." I look at him through narrowed eyes. "Years ago I created the first generation of humanoid mutts, ones that could be grown to look exactly like a person, down to the very last freckle." His eyes light up with excitement, and I try to hold down my anger. "They could be replicated down to the last _memory._" I look at him in horror.

"How?" I gasp. "How can you steal a person's memory?" It was one thing to take a person's face, that was something everyone could see with their own eyes, but their memories? That was something entirely despicable. I remember the way Alice's mutt had pleaded her to come down, how she had spouted phrases that, in retrospect, had probably meant a lot more to Alice than they had to me.

"Well you see, with just a bit of DNA it is quite easy. You see in every human body there is-" He clears his throat and shakes his head. "There is no reason to delve into that right now." Though he has stopped his talk on his creations his smirks make me slightly nervous. "Anyway, those early prototypes never lived more than a few moments, but I didn't need one to live, I needed one to fill a box." I feel my heart race as everything begins to come together.

"Once I got Peeta out of the Arena I shipped him off the District Thirteen and shipped his mutt to District Twelve." He nods once more, as if affirming himself. "I sent him here where he healed, and grew, and waited."

"Waited? Waited for what?"

"For you, of course." I feel my heart expand in my chest. Peeta has been waiting for me all these years, locked away in this hole in the ground. "We've kept him in the loop; he hasn't been hidden away here. Each year he's watched the games, well not the games, exactly." Plutarch rubs his chin. "He's watched you; it was actually his idea to have me 'marry' you to get you out of the Capitol. We've been searching for a way to get you out for years." I chuckle softly, that is so like Peeta. Cleverness always did come so easily to him.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I turn to Haymitch but he holds his hands up defensively.

"Don't look at me, Sweetheart. I didn't know till you did."

"No one knew outside of District Thirteen and myself." Plutarch huffs. "We all decided it would simply be too dangerous to share the knowledge." I rub my hands over my face, still unable to believe it. Alive, Peeta is alive.

"When you fainted Peeta ran to your side." Haymitch breathes softly. "He insisted on carrying you here, wouldn't let anyone else touch you. Not me, not your mother, not Prim, not even Cinna." Everything comes to a halt when I hear his name. Cinna. Oh god, Cinna. I curl my knees up against my chest, what must he be thinking?

"I want to see him." I mutter, and Plutarch nods.

"Of course, we asked Peeta to wait outside the door-"

"Cinna, I want to see Cinna." I say before they call Peeta in again and I'm helpless. When I had seen him the emotions that had rushed through me had been too strong to bear, and I can't deal with that right now, I have to talk to Cinna first, though I have no idea what I'll say.

Plutarch and Haymitch exchange glances that set me on edge and I can't help but grip the sheets below my hands. "I don't know if that is… wise." Plutarch says carefully, but I'm through with being careful. I've spent the last four years of my life walking on eggshells, following blindly anyone who wanted to lead me. Without waiting another second I throw the blankets off me and stand, wobbling shakily in my hospital gown.

"What do you think you're doing, kid?" Haymitch growls as his hand shoots for my arm, but I pull it out of his reach and nearly topple over in the process.

"I'm going to see Cinna." I say simply as I make my way towards the door, I'm almost all the way to it when I remember Peeta is standing on the other side, and my hand freezes just as I reach towards the doorknob. I force myself to slow down, force myself to think about this before I go rushing out with guns blazing."Why wouldn't it be wise to see Cinna?" I ask and turn back to face the two men. Once again they exchange looks that make me hiss. "I'm tired of being treated like a child! Either you give me the answers I want or I'll go looking for them!" I shout, and to see them jump gives me such a feeling of satisfaction I can't keep the smirk off my face.

"Since you fainted and Peeta brought you here Cinna… Has busied himself with his work." I let the words sink in, so he is upset. If I know Cinna he will kill himself with his work rather than feel the things he keeps bottled up inside. I have to go to him.

"Where is his room?" I ask as I reach for the knob once more.

"Wait!" Plutarch calls, and I turn to look at him with arched eyebrows. "He's… he's asked us to keep you in bed until you heal." I turn from the door and place my hands on my hips, his deception is as clear as the squat nose on his fat face.

"Oh really?" I can feel my face going red but I fight to keep the anger down. "Is that exactly what he said? Word for word?" I can see Plutarch struggling to come up with an excuse.

"Well no, that was his intentions, I'm sure. But- you must understand that- I didn't mean to- He- I- Uh-"

"Cinna said to keep you stuck in your room while he figures things out." Haymitch says over the blubbering man, his face a stony mask of resolve. I turn my eyes to Haymitch.

"He what?" I growl, and while Plutarch looks as if he is about to pee himself Haymitch simply meets my gaze. He's seen me angry before, a million times, he knows how to deal with me. At least, he thinks he does.

"He wants some space." I let the words sink in; let them simmer deep in my stomach. He wants some space? "He just needs some time." He needs time? I let my anger take ahold of me, as if I have done anything wrong! Cinna cannot simply cut me off of all interaction with him simply because of- because- before I can think straight I throw open the door and Peeta spins around, his crystal blue eyes finding mine instantly. All the anger, all the fight, drains out of me in one fell swoop. I stand there for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes that had only moments ago been full of fury. Now, as they look at him, I know there is nothing in them but awe.

"Katniss…" He says just as he said before, but instead of fainting I go to him. I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face in his chest. I remember the embraces we had shared in the Arena, the kisses we had stolen to receive sponsors. In the years following I had tried to tell myself the fire I had felt in the arena had been nothing, but it had been a lie. Each night I relieved those moments, and each time the fire grew until it consumed me. When I awoke from those dreams cold and shivering, it was as if I had been plucked from the fire and thrown into ice. That was how Cinna and I's relationship had begun. He was good at keeping out the cold when the dreams receded and I was alone again, and how could a relationship not grow from that? But how could I love him when I dreamed of another man every night, when I took the blame for his death on my shoulders? How could I love him when I couldn't even love myself?

"Peeta… you're alive." I murmur, and the soft feeling of his chest bouncing as he chuckles causes me to smile.

"I'm alive." I can feel his words against my neck, his breath rustling my hair. This is, by far, better than any dream. He tightens his grip on me, as if he is trying to pull me into him. "I've missed you." He whispers. "Every moment of every day." I can't help but smile slightly, that is exactly the type of thing he would say in my dreams. I pull away slowly and look at him, cradling his cheek in my hand. His face is stronger now, his jaw and cheek bones more proud than they had been four years ago. What little baby fat he'd had in the Arena has melted away now, leaving a face that looks so much like his fathers'. There is blonde stubble all over his chin and cheeks, and despite all his differences his eyes are still that unmistakable color of blue.

There is the sound of a throat being cleared behind me and I turn in time to see Haymitch and Plutarch skirting around us. I glower at them for breaking me away from the moment, but when I turn back to Peeta it is as if nothing exists any more. His thumbs stroke my cheeks as his hands cup my face, and for a moment he begins to lean in, I feel my heart hammer in my chest as he pulls me closer, but the sound of someone clearing their throat breaks us apart once more and I let out a hiss. "Now what?" I ask as I turn towards Haymitch, but find Cinna there instead.

Quickly I step back from Peeta, my cheeks burning red as I look at the man who has held my like that for years. His face is a stony mask of indifference, but only I can see the pain raging in his eyes, the betrayal. "Sorry for interrupting." He says in an even voice before turning to walk away.

"Cinna!" I call, but he doesn't even flinch. I throw Peeta a glance and hurry after Cinna, and I hope Peeta took it as a warning not to follow. He doesn't, however. Just as I catch up to Cinna I feel Peeta's hand in mine. I turn to look at him and shake my head, and Peeta doesn't try to hide his hurt and confusion. I feel shame rise within me, no one has told him of my relationship with Cinna. He doesn't know. "Please Peeta… I'll…" I can't even think of an excuse as I pull my hand out of his and hurry after Cinna once more. I don't give Peeta another look as I go; I know looking back and seeing the pain in his eyes will hurt far too much "Cinna wait!" I call, and this time the desperation in my voice stops him. He turns around quickly, his eyes set and his mouth a thin line.

"Yes?" He asks, and I come to stop in front of him.

"I… You… It wasn't what it-"

"Looked like?" Cinna laughs bitterly, shaking his head. "Of course it was what it looked like, Katniss. For years you've been pining over him." Cinna makes a gesture with his hand. "And here he is, alive and well. How could it be anything else?" I try to formulate a response but my tongue is fat in my mouth. I open my mouth to speak but Cinna cuts me off. "Don't bother. You have nothing to apologize for, nothing to regret. You've done nothing wrong; this is just the way things are." I shake my head.

"But I-"

"There are not buts!" Cinna yells, and I can see the fury in his glance. I stumble back, my eyes wide. He's never once raised his voice to me, not once. "I fought for you for four years, Katniss. I've been there for you! I've held you as you cried, stroked your hair when you woke up screaming his name, I was a living, breathing man and you preferred a dead one to me!" His arms swing wildly as he lets loose all the things he has held back all these years, and I'm surprised to find that I'm trembling. "I couldn't compete with him when he was dead, how the hell am I supposed to beat him when he's alive?" His voice breaks just as the tears slip out of my eyes.

None of this is fair to Cinna, he has every right in the world to be mad, he has every right to hate me. For a moment we both just stand there, him breathing wildly and me looking at the ground. I can't lie to him and tell him that I love him, I can't pretend seeing Peeta again isn't everything I've ever dreamed of. Cinna has known from the very start where my heart was, and I suppose he knew deep down that a day like this was coming; I had always hoped it would. What I had never dreamed of, though, was how Cinna would feel if it even happened. I never stopped to imagine just how much this would hurt him. I look up slowly, and what I see breaks my heart. Cinna's face, usually so devoid of emotions, is suddenly full of it. There are tears in his eyes and his lips are trembling. He looks as if his whole world is ending, as if everything he loves is crumbling around him to dust.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. "I didn't mean to yell at you." I shake my head; he deserves a lot more than the right to yell at me. "I didn't mean what I said. I'll… I'm still here for you, you know that." He walks forwards slowly and presses his lips to my forehead, and I let out a soft sob. When he pulls away his face is a clear mask once more. "I'll see you later." He says as he turns and walks away, and just like always I don't have the words to make him stay.

I lean back against the wall and wrap my arms around my stomach, my hair hanging down around my face like a curtain. Cinna, poor Cinna. Guilt rampages through me, burning like a wild fire. I am so consumed by it that I don't even realize I'm not alone until fingers touch my chin, forcing my face upwards. There is confusion in Peeta's eyes, but there is also understanding. I look away quickly. "So, you and Cinna…" He trails off, and I can hear the disappointment in his voice. He heard everything.

"You were dead." I choke out, and he nods.

"But you…" He pauses for a moment, as if he's trying to think of the best way to ask it. "You never loved him?" I shake my head, and Peeta lets out a short sigh of relief.

"That doesn't mean I don't care about him." I bite back as I look up at Peeta. He nods.

"Well, I'm afraid to say I'm not nearly as noble as Cinna." I narrow my eyes in confusion. "I'm not giving in, I've waited for you for four years and I'm not going to live without you for another day." I feel my heart constrict in my chest. "He's not the only one who's loved you all these years." I close my eyes, as if that will block out the conflict raging in my mind. It doesn't. Peeta tucks my hair behind my ear and forces me to look at him. "Are you hungry?" He asks softly, and I almost want to laugh.

"Not in the slightest." I respond and Peeta simply shrugs his shoulders and smiles.

"Well then, how about we work up an appetite by showing you around District Thirteen?" He asks with a flourish as he offers me his arm. I look at him skeptically before threading my hand through the crook of his elbow and following him away. I can't help but be ashamed by how easy it is to forget about my guilt and lose myself in his voice.


	22. Chapter 22

It is quite amazing how quickly time passes in District Thirteen, when you can't see the sun days turn in to week before you even realize time has moved at all. I had thought my life had been regimented back in the Capitol, but not even Effie's tightest schedule could compare to the daily routine of District Thirteen. I wake promptly at six every morning and dress before getting my tasks for the day tattooed on my arm by a scanner-like machine. Thankfully the ink washes off with a little effort. Though I try not to allow Coin and her beloved schedules rule my every waking hour I find that their planned 'activities' for me mainly follow Peeta's schedule, and as hard as I try I really can't complain with that.

Today my arm is only marked by meal times and a 'Council Meeting'. I hadn't even been aware that I was on a council at all. I'm not quite sure what I'm expecting to find when I walk through the great tall doors of the meeting room, but with Peeta by my side I'm ashamed to say I feel as if I could tackle anything. Against my will I cling to his hand as we trek the underground Labyrinth that is District Thirteen. More than once I had tried to find my way around Thirteen on my own and gotten hopelessly lost. Everything looks the same, from the white floors to the white walls and white ceiling, and I don't understand how people are supposed to find their way from place to place. At least in the Capitol designers and architects had the decency to color code hallways.

I grip Peeta's hand a bit more tightly as we turn down a hall way my brain tells me we've already been down, trusting him to guide me when my usually keen instincts are out of whack. For a moment I glance down at our conjoined hands. I've been down here nearly two weeks and this is the extent of our relationship. Sure, I am hardly anywhere he isn't, and I do spend most of my days talking to him, but our relationship has not advances beyond casual touches. At least that is what I tell myself.

In all reality even I know our relationship is so much more complicated than that. All these years Peeta has been hidden away here, watching me cry and pine for him, waiting for the day when we'd finally be together again, and though I had thought he was dead I never moved on. We both have been longing for the other for years; but now that we are together again, now that the time has come, neither of us really knows what to do or where to go from here. Despite all of our confusion, thought, there are times when I find him staring at me with a strange look in his eyes, as if he can't believe I'm real. In those instances I freeze like a frightened rabbit and just gaze back at him. Sometimes we sit there, motionless and staring, for ten minutes before one of us clears our throat and we go back to work on whatever we were doing.

"You're quiet today." He says flatly as we turn down another corridor. My mind is drawn back to one of my first nights here when I walked into someone else's living quarters and started getting ready for bed, it was a shock for the both of us when the rightful owner walked in. I would be so lost if it were not for him.

"Just thinking." I respond, since our first meeting the day I woke up I've spent all my time with Peeta asking him question after question, trying to learn everything that has been kept from me, and while he doesn't have all the answers he still has more than me and that is hardly something I can stand for. Still, there is really only one question on my mind at the moment, and though it is killing me not to know I still don't want to ask him. Not because I don't want to put him in the position where he has to answer but because I don't want him to turn around and ask the same of me.

"Care to share?" He squeezes my hand, and as always my body is flooded with warmth that starts in my heart but swiftly travels through my whole body. Everything within my aches for the answer to the question, and I hate to think of why that is. Something inside of me, something deep down, wants to know if Peeta was as devastated as I was when he realized I was gone, I want to know if he didn't speak to anyone when he didn't have to for nearly a year. We walk a little while farther before the question comes bubbling out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"What was it like when you woke up here?" I ask quickly, biting my lip before I add anything more dangerous than that. For a long time he is silent, as if he is contemplating his answer. He finally sighs and runs his free hand through his hair.

"You mean after I ripped out all my IVs and started screaming for you?" I chuckle softly at the thought of it but quickly snuff out the sound because laughing at a time like this is grossly inappropriate. Even with my inappropriate chuckle Peeta sends me a sideways smile and continues. "It took me a long time to recover. They told me I would have lost my leg to Cato's cut if I'd had to wait for medical attention a day longer." I frown as I watch my feet, remembering the feast I had rushed to, and the cannon that had sounded just as I grabbed the bag. "It took me even longer to get used to being here, to stop looking for you when I was in a crowd of people..." I continue to stare at my very interesting shoe laces, watching them flop as one foot moves in front of the other. "But watching you through the years helped. Seeing you… it helped." We lapse into silence once more, and while part to me is grateful that he hasn't turned around and asked me the same question I realize it is because he already knows the answer. He's watched what it was like for me when I went home without him; he knows just how well I took it.

After a few more corners we arrive in the meeting room, and though we are not late we are the last to arrive. Awkwardly we shift into the room and take the only two seats available, and I am pleased that they are between Haymitch and Plutarch. As I take my seat between Peeta and Haymitch my eyes find the person sitting directly across from me, and my heart shatters in my chest. Cinna looks as if he hasn't slept in a long time; his usually bright green eyes are dull and there are purple shadows beneath them. His skin is ashen and his cheeks have sunken in slightly. In the matter of weeks he has aged years. I grip the arms of my chair as tightly as I can to stop myself from jumping across the table as a wave of intense regret takes ahold of me. The worst part of it all is that though he looks in my direction it is as if he is looking straight through me. He just won't meet my eyes. Not that I would know what to do if he did.

"Well, now that we are all here," Coin sends Peeta and I a glance that says we should have been here earlier, and I sit back in my chair. If she wanted us here earlier she should have made the time earlier. "We may begin." She shifts her papers in an official looking way but I'm having a hard time being impressed when all I can see is Cinna across the table from me, looking as if his world has stopped spinning. I don't hear her when she starts speaking, I'm too transfixed on Cinna to do anything else but mentally berate myself for being a pathetic excuse for a human being. I imagine him bent over his work bench, designing something breath taking instead of coming to terms with his emotions. I feel anger well within me, why can't he just yell at me and be done with it? Why can't he get all his feelings out in the open instead of holding them in and demolishing himself? Why can't he-

"-Katniss?" My name snaps me out of my thoughts, and I blink for a moment, staring at Coin with wide doe eyes.

"Huh?" Somewhere around the table someone scoffs, but Peeta sends them a glare and they fall silent. Coin sighs and adjusts herself, and I can tell she is getting more and more annoyed by the moment. I try not to allow myself to dislike her more than I already do.

"I was saying that we, the Council, already have a list of people we intend on liberating from the Capitol and its Districts." She says in an even tone. "We wanted to know if you had anyone you think we should add to that list, as you have had the most recent insight on the happenings of Panem." I look at her in confusion; she wants me to name people to join the Rebellion? My mind comes up with a million names all at once, and I grasp for the first one.

"Finnick, Finnick Odair." I spit out quickly, and Coin nods.

"We already had him on our list." She goes to shuffle some papers.

"Do you have Annie Cresta?" Coin arches her eyebrows at me. "She's another Victor from District Four, and I can promise you without a shadow of a doubt that if you don't take her too Finnick will not come." Coin nods her head and scribbles the name down.

"Who else?"

I think for a moment, and though I hate to say the name I know I have to. "Johanna Mason." Once again Coin throws me a skeptical look.

"My sources have reported that Miss Mason is volatile, at best-"

"But you'll find no one who hates the Capitol as much as she does." There is silence around the table, and it takes me a moment to realize why. I interrupted their President, and by the look of shock on Coin's face I can tell that she isn't used to such a thing.

"Anyone else?" She says through tight lips once she regains control of her face.

"Beete and Wiress of District-"

"Already on our list." She goes back to her papers, and I can't be angry that she is returning the favor by cutting me off.

"Gale and Laramie Hawthorne." I say before she has the chance to speak again. She narrows her eyes at me, and it's obvious she's never heard their names before.

"And who, might I ask, are they?" I try to think of an excuse, a reason as too why they would be important to the Rebellion, but I can't think of one. Gale has calmed down since he was married, and having a baby will only intensify that, I'm sure.

"Friends of mine." I say carefully. "And they are the first people the Capitol will go after when they realize I'm here." There is a soft murmur around the room as Coin contemplates the names and their worth. "Gale is a hard worker, and he's clever." I run my hand over my face. "Laramie is his wife, and she's pregnant." I watch the decision set in Coin's eyes, and I wonder if she does have a sentimental bone somewhere deep down.

"Very well, District Thirteen can always use more Citizens." She writes down the names and the rest of the meeting commences with whizzed looking men and women going back and forth while I try not to fall asleep in my chair. They talk about battle plans, and strategies, and it is awfully boring. One would think a rebellion meeting would be exciting but the logistics of it are horribly disappointing. Where would be the best area of attack? What would Snow do in retaliation? How many casualties can we expect? That was when I started actually getting angry. How many casualties can we expect? Sure, I knew lives were lost in war but that didn't mean the conversation of it could be so casual, as if the loss of human life was no big deal. To disguise my anger I pretend to be very interested in the small lines in the wood of the table, tracing them with my eyes. When Peeta grabs my hand under the table and squeezes I look at him out of the corner of my eyes.

His entire face looks ridged, and I can tell that he is thinking the same thing I am. This is wrong, maybe less wrong than the Capitol and their Hunger Games but it is still wrong none-the-less. Coin sits in her seat at the head of the table, her eyes hard and full of calculation, but will she be anywhere near these battles she plans? No, I doubt that will be the case. She will be safe away in her fortress that is District Thirteen, she will be as far away from the fray as she can be. Were I to insert myself in the conversation now and defend my ideals they would just call me naïve, they would tell me that I don't understand the sacrifices of war, or that every soldier knows what they're getting themselves into. Then I'd ask what sacrifice Coin has personally made, and then I'd be kicked out of the meeting.

Maybe that is the reason they don't ask for my input again. They don't ask me what I think about their plans and their schemes. In fact they don't ask me anything at all until the conversation turns to what exactly I'll be doing in District Thirteen, what I'll be doing in this rebellion of theirs.

"You see, Katniss, that is the reason you are here." Plutarch says with a wicked smile. "You're here to win our toughest battle for us." I narrow me eyebrows and purse my lips.

"I'm afraid I don't follow." Sure, I could definitely take out a few targets with an arrow, but I don't see how smiling at a camera will win a battle.

"What is it that gave the Districts their hope in the first place?" Plutarch asks softly, but he doesn't wait for anyone to respond. "The two of you!" He motions to Peeta and I and we just look at each other. I'm sure I look just as uncertain as he does. "What we are going to do, once we get ahold of Beete and Wiress, is flood the Capitol's Channels with images of the two of you, happy and reunited, the Star Crossed Lovers of District Twelve together again!" He pauses for a moment to look proud of himself before continuing. "You two shall be the faces of the Rebellion, the voice telling everyone that is it time to fight."

"And whose words will we be using?" Peeta asks, and I can feel his grip on my hand tightening.

"Well… You will have the freedom to add what you like, to put your own spin on it of course, but the Council shall create the scripts you shall use in the propaganda clips.

"And you think this will work?" I asked with arched eyebrows. "You think people will stand just because Peeta and I tell them to?" I imagine the faces I had seen in Ten and Eleven, I imagine the faces I know back in Twelve. It will take much more than a few scripted words to get those broken backs to straighten. Plutarch looks to Coin for support and she sighs.

"The citizens of Panem had been told by the Capitol that Peeta had died all those years ago." She said evenly. "And now they've been told that you are dead as well. It will look suspicious when they realize you're both very much alive. They'll begin asking what else the Capitol has lied to them about." I want to say that the Capitol had nothing to do with those deceits, that it was District Thirteen behind both of those lies, but I don't. As skeptical as I am about this whole ordeal I really don't think now would be a good time to make statements that can be construed as sympathetic towards the Capitol. Rather than ask anything else of Plutarch or Coin I turn to Haymitch.

"What do you think of all of this?" I ask with a straight face. Through the years it has been Haymitch guiding me safely through the delicate life of a Victor, and I trust him now just as much now as I did back in the Capitol. I trust him to know what is best, as I always have. He runs his hand over his clean shaved jaw and hums, his eyes closing for a moment.

"The people love you, Sweetheart, everyone knows that." He says suddenly, and I can't help but arch my eyebrows. If they love me it's his fault, I've been doing everything he says down to a T for the past four years, after all. "And they loved him even more than they love you." He points at Peeta, before continuing. "You know how the Capitol citizens are, how attached they get to their victors. Can you imagine the response when they find out their two favorites didn't die after all? You will win us allies not only within the District but also within the Capitol." Haymitch places his hand on my shoulder. "The more allies we have the quicker this whole thing can be over, and the quicker it's over the fewer lives will be lost." I weigh his words in my mind, rolling them over and over again as I try to determine their worth. It takes me hardly more than a moment to decide. Haymitch is right, he is absolutely right, like always. If I make these little Propaganda videos I can help save hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives. After all, we won't have to take the Districts if they flock to us.

"Alright." I say as I settle in my seat, running my free hand over my face. "I'll do… whatever it is I have to do." Plutarch clasps his hands excitedly.

"Excellent! And have you finished their costumes, Cinna?" All eyes turn to my stylist, and he gives them a curt nod.

"They'll be magnificent." His voice is hoarse, as if someone has rubbed his throat raw with sandpaper. Once again I am overcome with the need to rush to him, but I remain firmly planted in my seat by Peeta's hand. Coin clears her throat at the end of the table and stands, her hands firmly planted on the wood.

"Well then, it would seem as if everything is going as planned." She says with a determined look. "I would like to thank you all for your dedicated and hard work, together we shall make this country into something new, something brilliant, something as bright and shining as the sun." She stands straight and clasps her hands behind her back, instantly two officers flank her. "That will be all for the day, please continue with your schedules as instructed. Thank you." With that she walks from the room, and I'm left staring after her.

"Why do I get the feeling that by 'bright and shining as the sun' she actually means under her rule?" I ask Peeta in a hushed voice so no one else will hear. He leans closer to me and squeezes my hand once before letting it go.

"She isn't as bad as she seems." He says in an equally quiet voice. "I just don't think she knows how to really be a person any more… she's more like a machine." I chuckle as I stand from the table, stretching my arms over my head. The clock on the wall tells me that we've been in that meeting for over four hours, and every muscle in my body can tell. Quickly I maneuver around my chair and bump into someone. When I turn around to apologize I see a mop of unruly brown hair hurrying away from me as fast as he can, as if I'm carrying the plague. I almost call out to him but Peeta grabs my hand once more and pulls my attention away from the retreating Cinna.

"Hungry?" He asks, as it was nearly lunch time.

"Yeah…" I mutter, but in my mind I'm still watching Cinna hurry away from me, the pain in my chest is so hot I feel like I need to swallow a gallon of water just to put it out.

"You okay?" Peeta asks and I nod quickly before pulling him out of the room, wanting to eat my bland lunch before it goes from luke-warm to frozen.


	23. Chapter 23

It was decided that my first official mission would be under cover of night, when the sky was full of clouds and the moon had already set. Four groups had been created; Team Alpha, Team Beta, Team Gamma, and Team Delta, to sneak into the Districts and steal away those who had been chosen by the rebellion. Plutarch said he had made sure each of the chosen men and women had been informed by sleeper cells within the Districts that they were being freed, it was only Gale who hadn't been told, as Plutarch didn't have any agents within District Twelve. In all it seems a little sketchy to me that the one I had pushed to have saves should not receive a notification.

With my head back against the wall the Hovercraft flies through the open air between Districts Thirteen and Twelve. As part of Team Gama it is my job to sneak into District Twelve, with Peeta, a hardened man named Boggs and identical twins known only as Leeg 1 and Leeg 2, and steal away Gale before anyone even notices we're there. I glance between the twins, I suppose it must get a little confusing, and if I were one of them I would be furious that I didn't even have a name of my own, but as the two chat away in the corner of the craft I find that they must be used to it, having grown up with the names. "So, shall we go over the plan again?" Boggs asks as he continues cleaning out his weapon, a brutal looking gun the likes of which I've never seen before.

"I know what we're doing." I say a little too gruffly, and Peeta grabs my hand. Someone had mentioned to him my fear of flying, or so I'm assuming. Otherwise how would he know to grab my hand every time we hit a rough patch of air, to whisper funny things to distract me during take-off?

"Humor me." Boggs replied with no humor in his gaze. I roll my eyes and let out a long breath of air.

"We're going to be dropped right outside the District, I will attach these-" I take a moment to sneak the small clamp out of my pocket to show them. "-to the fence, which will short out the power for a few minutes. We will then climb over the fence and I will lead everyone to where Gale lives, then I will go inside and convince them to leave with us, which really shouldn't be too hard." When I finish Boggs looks content and leans back in his seat once more. He doesn't trust me; of that much I am certain. He is used to being around the Soldiers of Thirteen, trained monkeys who will jump whenever you tell them to. I must seem quite rogue to him, and I like that a lot more than I probably should.

"Everythings going to be fine." Peeta whispers in the seat beside me, and I laugh bitterly and shake my head.

"You haven't been to District Twelve since we were reaped." I say I a low voice. "You really have no idea what's coming." Almost as soon as I say it light touches the windows and District Twelve comes into focus.

Since my time as a Tribute District Twelve has drawn more Capitol attention than it ever had before, and that was probably the worst thing that could have happened to it. With the Capitol's eyes on District Twelve it has been transformed. Buildings that had once been crumbling and blackened by soot are now shining and pristine once more, but that is as far as the improvement goes. District Twelve is surrounded by a ten foot high fence the buzzes with life twenty-four hours a day. New Peace Keepers parade our streets, ones who do not know our names and faces, ones that don't care who we are or what we've been through. Men with rifles sit in watch towers and stare our over every movements.

At first we all thought it was just for show, that those nasty guns would never be trained on us, that is until last spring when an eight year old boy was playing too close to the fence. They said he was trying to get under it. They shot to kill. There have been countless other injuries, flogging and even public executions. When the reform had begun Greasy Sae was hanged for refusing to leave the hob, they left her body out for a week as a message to the rest of us, and we all heard it loud and clear. We could not defend ourselves, we could not stand up for ourselves, and if we resisted we would be killed. It was as simple as that. Part of me knows that I should tell Peeta all this before we land within the trees, but the other part of me doesn't dare kill the excitement in his eyes. He presses his face to the window, his breath catching in his throat as the prospect of home looms closer and closer. I don't have it in me to destroy that look of hope on his face.

I grip the sides of my seat as the Hovercraft begins descending, landing in a narrow clearing surrounded by trees on all sides. As soon as the craft shutters as the legs hit the ground I let out a soft breath, though I know I really shouldn't feel safe just yet. Though the others hardly seem so much as flustered I can't get rid of the feeling that one of us will not make it back to District Thirteen, then again I've always been a horrible pessimist. "Alright, any last words of wisdom?" Leeg 1 says with a smirk, but Boggs simply hands each of us a weapon, and while I am not surprised when he places a beautiful looking bow in my hands I am quite shocked when Peeta receives a thick gun. With deft hands he goes about cocking and readying the gun, holding it with the barrel to the floor.

"Yeah, don't get killed if you can help it." Boggs says just before the door in the bottom of the floor opens and he jumps out rather than waiting for the latter to fall.

One by one we all follow him, falling through open air for only moments before taking off into the woods. Only a few paces behind Peeta I hold my bow at the ready, waiting for any sign of movement though I know Peace Keepers don't patrol the woods. Still, it is almost a habit now. When I see a wild dog scurry through the brush my hands instinctively tighten on my bow, and I have to remind myself silently not to allow an arrow to fly into his eye. Small twigs crunch under my feet as the heady smell of decaying foliage fills my nose, and I cannot help but take a deep breath. Here in these woods I am more at home than I had ever been within the cage District Twelve has become. For a moment it is as if the sun has come out and I see the image of Gale and I sitting in our spot, talking about running away as if it were a feasible thing. I should have run with him when I had the chance. I push that thought out of my mind as quickly as I can, if I had run away with him who would have volunteered to take Prim's place? Who would have saved her?

When we come to the trees just before the fence we all stop, making sure to distance ourselves from the towers that stand a hundred feet apart each. Boggs motions me forward with hand signals we've all been practicing for a week, and I respond without hesitation. I slide my bow carefully over my shoulder, drawing the clips out of my pockets. With jerked movements I attack them to the fence and listen as a four foot strip of the fence goes silent. "C'mon." I hiss as I grab onto the thick metal rungs of the fence, climbing it like a latter before dropping to my feet on the other side. For a moment I remain silent and motionless within the shadows, waiting until the others join me before I make my move.

We advance slowly, with as little noise as we can afford. Carefully we skirt around areas of light, freezing whenever we hear a Peacekeeper call out to another. Half crouched we make our way through the seam, our black clothes disguising us against the black burnt looking buildings. When we reach the end of an alley way, the last one until we get to Gale's house, a Peace Keeper waits at the end, his back to the darkness and his face to the street. He positively shines against the dull night scenery, and I wonder if anyone was really thinking when they decided to make the Peace Keepers uniforms that bright unnatural white color. They can never hide. After a long strand of hand movements from Boggs Peeta and Leeg2 sneak forward, moving closer and closer to the guard until they are right behind him. With a harsh movement Peeta slams the butt of his gun into the Peace Keeper's head, and Leeg 2 catches him before he hits the ground. Together they drag the man into the shadows, and I cannot keep the look of surprise off my face.

Peeta glances back at me with a look of concern. "He's not dead." He assures me under his breath. "He'll wake up in a few hours with a bad head ache." He says with a nod, and I swallow the lump in my throat. What else has Peeta learned to do in his time in District Thirteen?

When we finally come upon Gale's house I motion for everyone to hide back in the shadows, as I know Gale will not be happy if suddenly his small house is full of strangest. With agile movements I climb through his open windowsill and land in a crouch on the floor. I stand slowly, surveying my surroundings when I feel the tip of a pick axe touch the small of my back. "Move and you'll never walk again." Gale says in a low growling voice, and I smirk despite the situation. "Put your hands where I can see them." Unable to stop myself from playing along I lift my hands in the air slowly. "Now turn around." Carefully I spin on the spot, a mixed look of boredom and defiance on my face. All the color drains from Gale's cheeks.

"Really, Gale. I thought you'd be a lot more happy to learn I didn't die in a-" I don't get to finish my witty response, because Gale drops the pick axe and throws his arms around me, crushing me against him with all his strength. With a desperation I hadn't even realized I'd been housing I grasp Gale back as tightly as I can, longing for something familiar, something home.

"I thought you were dead." He whispers against my neck, and I can feel him trembling. "Dammit Katniss, I thought you were dead!" He hisses as he pulls away, taking my face in his hands. "Where have you been?"

"I don't have time to explain." I say with a nod. "Get Laramie, I've arrange for the two of you to get out of District Twelve." Gale steps back, his eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Leave? Leave and go where?" I give him a small smile, the best smile I can possibly muster under the circumstances.

"District Thirteen." As soon as I say it his hands drop from my face. "That's where I've been, Gale. I didn't die, I escaped. There is a rebellion brewing in District Thirteen, and it will spread to all the Districts soon enough, but there isn't much time. You two need to come with us now." I touch his shoulder lightly. "Gale, trust me." His face solidifies and he nods, rushing into the other room hastily. It only takes a minute for him to rouse his wife and pull her into the kitchen. Laramie appears with wide sleepy eyes full of excitement, her brown her mussed and knotted.

"You're alive!" She whispers, but I put my fingers over my lips to silence her. Though I've never really talked to the girl without Gale being present the look of joy in her eyes is overwhelming. I glance down at her stomach to see that she hasn't yet begun showing, but that should come soon enough.

"C'mon, we've got to go now." I whisper fiercely as I motion towards the window I had entered through. With a nod of understanding from Gale I hurry back the way I came, turning once I'm through the window to help Laramie through it as well. Gale follows quickly after and we find Boggs waiting for us in the shadows.

"We don't have much time before the fence goes live again." Boggs whispers fiercely. "We've got to hurry."

"Where are the twins and Peeta?" I search the shadows for our missing team members to no avail, my heart hammers in my chest.

"They went ahead; Peeta thought it would be easiest if we didn't have to waste time explaining Peeta's existence to Gale." He whispers back before turning and leading the way without another word. We retrace our steps as lights and swiftly as we can, avoiding the Peace Keepers at every turn. It is a relief to find the unconscious man still where we left him. It doesn't take us long to find our way back to the small stretch of fence with my clasps still on it, and though they look the same as they did when I left them I know their power must be almost out.

"Alright, Laramie first." I say quickly as I motion her forward, but Boggs shakes his head.

"No, Katniss goes first to cover the rest of us while we cross. Then I'll go to help Laramie from the other side while you help her from the back." Boggs commands, and I almost argue with him but I realize I don't have the time for such things and I turn and scurry up the fence as quickly as I can, jumping down to the ground on the other side rather than wasting my time by climbing down. As soon as I draw my bow Boggs follows suit, though he is not as skilled a climber as I am.

"Hurry!" I insist as Boggs drops on the ground before me, turning on his heels to motion Laramie along. For a pregnant woman she moves a lot faster than I thought she would, and before I know it she is on the other side of the fence.

"Don't jump." Gale insists as he beings his climb up the fence. "I don't want you to-" Suddenly the clamps fly off the fence, and the metal Gale and Laramie are clinging to becomes live once more. I watch, as if in slow motion, as Gale and Laramie are thrown in opposite directions, their bodies smoldering as the smell of burnt flesh fills the air. When they hit the ground, nearly at the same time, neither of them are moving. They're not even breathing.

"Gale?" I whisper, as my heart begins hammering so quickly I'm afraid it will explode in my chest. "Gale!" I scream as I launch forward towards him, but strong arms grab my around my waist.

"What was that?"

"Someone's at the fence!"

"Fire on sight!" Peace Keepers yell as they hurry towards the sounds of my panic.

"Gale! Gale!" I cry shrilly as Peeta's hand clamp over my mouth and he swings me over his shoulder. Without hesitation, or even checking to see if Laramie is alive, Boggs turns and runs into the forest and Peeta follows behind him quickly. I scream against Peeta's hand and thrash with all my might. I can't leave Gale behind, I can't abandon him! We had promised we would never abandon the other, we promised!

Even though I fight with all my might Peeta hardly so much as stumbles as he carries me through the trees, bringing us to the Hovercraft in record time. "In in in!" Boggs growls as he throws open the door and jumps inside, reaching down to help the rest of us. Peeta holds me up and Boggs grabs my arms, hauling me inside the belly of the beast. As soon as I am on my feet I swing my arm wildly, catching Boggs in the jaw with my fist.

"You left them to die!" I scream as Peeta pulls himself into the craft, pinning me against the wall just as I go to strike Boggs again. "You didn't even check if she was breathing! You left them!" I scream as Leeg 1 and Leeg 2 shut the door and tell the pilot to take off. Boggs rubs his jaw as he looks at me, and though there is no sadness in his eyes there is something close to disappointment there.

"That was Ten-Thousand volts of electricity." Boggs grumbles as he sits himself back in his seat, and though I thrash against the wall of muscle that is Peeta I cannot get free. "Ten-Thousand volts of electricity that went straight to their hearts, they're dead Katniss. No one could survive that." He turns his face away from me just as tears blur my vision.

"You should have let her go up first." I cry, my voice thick with tears. "She was pregnant-"

"That doesn't make her more important than you are." Boggs turns to me once more with eyes made of stone. "One life is not always equal to another, and I would make that call again if I had to." With a start I realize that he didn't make me go first because he wanted me to cover them, he made me go first to ensure I would make it across safely.

"You killed them." I whisper, and Peeta's grip slackens as he feels the fight drain out of me. I look at Boggs in shock and despair, and the man simply lets out a short breath and shakes his head.

"You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better." Peeta moves to encase me in his arms but I push him back, moving to the end of the craft with a window that faces District Twelve. I place my hands on the glass as the last half hour of my life plays over and over in my mind. Was it really Boggs' fault that they died, or was it mine? If I hadn't tried to free them, if I had moved them faster- a thousand possibilities ring through my mind as I watch Gale falling through the air over and over again, his black hair smoking at the tips. There are only three places I can possibly lay the blame; it can either be on myself, Boggs, or President Snow. My fists tighten at my sides as I grind my teeth.

It is rather obvious which puffy-lipped serpent I mark as the culprit.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hey everyone! I know I'm updating rather quickly but I just wanted to get in as many updates as I can before June. You see, I'll be participating in Nanowrimo's Summer Camp this June so my novel will have the monopoly on my creativity. Still, I will try to get at least one more chapter out before June, and I'll try my best to get out at least one chapter during June, but I make no promises. Anyway, enjoy!**

It's been three days since I left my room, and with the way things are going I don't think I'll be opening the door to anything more than food any time soon. I don't want to see them; I don't want to see the soldiers of Thirteen marching around with their purpose and their 'good' intent. I don't want to think of their general who left the man who helped keep my family alive for years to die, I don't want to remember the sound Laramie made when she hit the ground. Carefully I wined my arms around my legs, maybe it isn't their fault, maybe it isn't my fault, but it has to be someone's fault, someone has to pay for the life that was stolen. I feel liquid hot fire burning through my veins as I close my eyes, watching Gale falling behind closed lids. Someone has to pay, and I'm getting to the point where I really don't care who it is.

Peeta brings me my food every day, and though he tries to get me to let him in I won't. He might have been born in District Twelve, he might have been raised in District Twelve, but he certainly isn't District Twelve any more. A man from District Twelve wouldn't know how to assemble a gun; he wouldn't know where to hit another man to knock him out. I wouldn't go as far as to say Peeta is a stranger wearing a familiar face, but he is different. He may still be sweet and kind, but I wouldn't go as far as to say he is innocent any longer. He is one of them, he is a soldier of District Thirteen, and although I can hear the pain in his voice I close the door to him none-the-less.

My mother and Prim come by often, but I swear they are worse than the soldiers. When I look at them the pain really gets me, the memories I shared with Gale hit me full force and all I can see is how much I've let them down, how much I've let all of District Twelve down. So I don't let them in either. Most of time I spend my day staring at the wall, reliving my favorite hunting trips in my head. I remember every moment we had in the woods, or at least that is how it seems. Sometimes I think I make up for holes in my memory but cutting and pasting a different memory over the spot, melding multiple days together to make one full stream I can watch all at once. Sometimes I laugh when I remember something funny, or cry when I remember the hunger and desperation. Sometimes I cry because I realize just how much I'll miss Gale. Sometimes I cry just because I can. I know it probably makes me a bad person but very rarely do I stop to think of Laramie or their unborn child, but I suppose that is because I didn't know her, I didn't know either of them. I try my best not to dwell on those thoughts in my time of grief. I don't think I have the emotional capacity to deal with pain and guilt.

Suddenly there is the sound of knuckles rapping on the door, and I sit quickly, wiping my eyes and nose on the back of my sleeve. Sometimes Peeta will ask to come in, or he'll just knock then leave the food and walk away. I wait for a moment, wait for the sound of his retreating footsteps, but they don't come. He knocks on the door again.

"Just leave it." I call thickly, clearing my throat in an attempt to hide the way my voice breaks.

"Let me in Kat, or I'll kick down the door." Cinna says calmly, and I feel my heart hammer in my chest. Would it hurt so much to look at Cinna? He isn't District Twelve or Thirteen, so could letting him in really be so bad? With shaking legs I stand, pushing my hair back as I make my way over towards the door. I take a deep breath before opening it, looking at the man before me with wide venerable eyes. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, running his fingers down my cheek after wards. "You smell awful, Kat." He says in a soft gentle voice, and though I can't find it in me to laugh I do shake my head and step aside to let him in.

"That may be, but you're still coming into my room of your own free will." He shoves his hands into his pockets as he looks me over, and I take the time to survey him as well. Though his cheeks are still slightly sunken in and his eyes still have dark bags under them it would appear as if he has begun eating and sleeping once more. Carefully, as if he's worried I'm a frightened animal that might spook at sudden movements, Cinna holds his arms open to me. As if on its own accord I feel my feet move forward as I collapse into his arms, burying my face in his chest as tears roll down my cheeks in fat, heavy streams. "He's dead, Cinna." I whisper against his District Thirteen uniform as he strokes down my frizzy, greasy hair. "He's gone, I watched him die." I feel a shudder move through my body. You think I'd be used to watching people die by now.

"I know." He replies simply as he strokes my back with his artful hands. "You're going to be okay, Kat."

"No, I won't." I sob, shaking my head profusely. "I'm tired of seeing people die because of me; I'm tired to being responsible." Cinna grips my arms and holds me away slightly, looking at me with eyes full of shock.

"You think this was your fault?" I suck in a deep quivering breath.

"Yes! No, I don't know! It has to be someone's fault, and Snow isn't really here for me to blame." Cinna rubs my shoulders soothingly, and though it feels wonderful I try not to enjoy it. Why should I be allowed to feel comfort and ease when Gale died with his heart hammering and full of fear? Why should I ever be allowed rest again when Gale's last thought was on his wife's safety when I had put her in danger? I shake my head and try to pull away but Cinna pulls me closer instead.

"I don't think so." He says as he cups my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him. "Kat, this was, by no means, your fault." He uses his free hand to brush away my tears; I close my eyes to avoid his gaze. "We are at war, and people are lost in wars. You can't blame yourself for every death that is to come, otherwise you'll drive yourself mad." He pulls me closer, pressing his body against mine as he holds my face in his hands. "Besides, do you think Gale would want you to roll over and blame yourself rather than fight to avenge him? Now I've never met the guy, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he'd want you to raise enough hell for the both of you." I let out a short stunted laugh, yes that would be like Gale, that would be exactly like Gale.

Cinna wraps his arms around my shoulders as I hide my face away in his neck, shivering in the small room. "This isn't your fault." He whispers as he kisses the top of my head. "None of this is." He massages the small of my back with his hand, and I feel my tension beginning to release. Maybe Cinna is right, just as he always is, but when I pull away to tell him that his lips descend on mine before I have the chance.

I grip his shirt as his mouth moves against mine, pouring the courage and the love I so need into me, but there is something else there as well. Desperation; fierce and hot and unyielding. He surrounds me with his presence, holding me in a strong embrace I don't think I could ever break even if I wanted to. He grips me possessively, as if he is finally getting me back after so long of an absence, and I suppose on his side that is what this must seem like. After a while the kiss dies down and he pulls away, his forehead and nose pressed against mine but his eyes are closed. He is so familiar, so comfortable, so known. Should I really risk my heart with this new Peeta when I have known Cinna in every sense of the word? "I've missed you." He finally whispers after an eternity of silence, and I sigh softly.

"I haven't gone anywhere." As soon as I say it he laughs and pulls away, barely touching my shoulders where he had been holding me moments before. I bit my lip to stop myself from whimpering at the loss.

"You might as well have." He says as he touches my cheeks one at a time, making sure there wasn't a single tear he had missed. "Now, you need to go take a shower. I don't care if I have to throw you over my shoulder and take you there myself." I scoff as I grab for my towel, hanging it over my shoulder as I root through my drawers for a change of clothes.

"Thanks Cinna." I whisper almost too softly, as if I'm hoping he won't hear me at all. I know he doesn't mean for me to notice but he gentle fingers a strand of my hair.

"Anytime." In that moment his voice is so broken I consider whether loving Peeta would be worth destroying Cinna. No matter which way I turn this predicament to look at it it isn't.

My arms begin to burn as I pump them up and down once more, sweat trickling down my face and landing in a small pool of perspiration beneath me. I feel my body shake under the strain of training, my breath coming in shallow ragged gulps as I fight to stop myself from landing in my own sweat. The instructor commands us to do five more push-ups, but I really don't think I can even do one more. We've been at it for hours, and while I've never really been out of shape since I stared hunting I have grown soft in the past few years, not that there was much muscle to go soft in the first place. I've never been strong, not physically at least. I always relied on my legs to carry me away from danger and my bow to protect me when I couldn't out run it.

"C'mon, just a few more!" The beast of a man calls out just as my arms begins to give way, still I grit my teeth and force myself up and down twice more before falling to my side with the rest of the new comers of District Thirteen. Water is passed out to us by children who can probably do a hundred more pushups than I can, and I accept it greedily. Without hesitation I pull the stopper out of the water with my teeth and drink down half of the bottle.

"If you drink that to fast you'll throw up." Johanna Mason says as she plops down beside me, her tanned skin glistening with sweat as well.

"That may just be worth it." I grumble as I pour a little water into my hand and rub the back of my neck. She chuckles softly before taking a drink of her own bottle.

"So, I heard it was your idea to have me taken from District Seven." She says suddenly as the instructed goes from person to person, checking their heart rate. I raise the bottle to my lips to give me time to think of a response.

"Yeah." I reply as the instructor gets to me, he presses his index and middle finger to the inside of my wrist and looks at his watch for fifteen seconds before moving onto Johanna. Once he has left her she turns to me once more.

"I suppose that means our hearts aren't about to explode, otherwise they'd cart us out of here." With the back of her hand she wipes the sweat out of her eyes. "Look, I don't know why you asked them to get me but… Thanks, I owe you one… I guess." She says almost reluctantly. I try to think of a reason as to why I fought for her, why I convinced the council to take a chance on the volatile Johanna Mason, but I can't think of one that won't sound ridiculous. We aren't friends, not even close, I can't even think of a real reason as to why her name came to mind when they asked me who they should get. We sit there in an awkward silence for the rest of our break, nursing our bottles of water while we try to pat away the copious amounts of sweat that is soaking our clothes. When the trainer tells us to stand once more Johanna lets out a loud groan and pushes herself to her feet.

"I swear, the Game Makers aren't as cruel as him!" She hisses a little too loudly as she stretches her arms over her head. With much the same reluctance I stand as well, watching as the man displays some horrible, torturous looking routine exercise he wants us to do. For a moment I contemplate turning and leaving the room, refusing to take part in their 'training' any longer. I've been in training before, and it resulted in twenty-three deaths. I could tell them training and I don't get along well, that it brings back old memories I would rather stay buried, but I can see the look of disappointment that would be in Peeta and Cinna's eyes before I even quit. I know they were both horrified by the fact that Coin plans on putting me in the field to shoot the Promo clips, keeping me safe and hidden away in District Thirteen is one of the first things they've ever really agreed on.

I follow the man in the front with a little more gusto than those around me; this was part of the deal. If I wanted to be out where the action was happening I had to go through training, I had to tone my muscles and mind so when the time comes I don't get us all killed. Then again, I'm pretty sure I've proven that I'm very good at not getting myself killed. I have a crown and a giant house to prove it, at least I did. While word isn't out that I'm alive yet that Capitol has called all the remaining Victors who hadn't been smuggled out to the Capitol where they can keep an eye on them, as if the Victor's know something the Capitol does not. I also believe they are calling them all there to disguise from the people of Panem who is missing and who is still under the Capitol's control.

After ten more minutes of strenuous work the trainer leads us through a cool down, a series of stretches and moves that are supposed to keep us from cramping up too bad in the morning. As I walk away from him with my towel over my shoulder I know that the cool down didn't work, I can already feel the soreness settling in. When I wake in the morning it's going to be like waking from the Grand Finale of the Games all over again. I shake my head as I hurry away from the room, well I hurry as quickly as I can, in all reality I am hardly crawling along. Still, I make it out of the room before most of the others do, and I feel accomplished by that. I nearly trip on Peeta who is sitting with his back to the wall outside of the room.

"Katniss." He blurts out as he stands, his hand outstretched to me. I look at it skeptically for a moment before sighing and placing my hand in his. The look of relief that covers his face is overwhelming. "I'm sorry about-"

"Don't." I say quickly, stopping him in his tracks. "It's not as if it's your fault. You've nothing to be sorry for." I was tired of people telling me they were sorry for things that weren't their fault. I had gotten enough of that when I returned to the District after I was crowned Victor. There is a twinge of pain in Peeta's eyes, but he doesn't voice it.

"Well, anyway, your mom told me to come get you when you were done training." He says as he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "Something about a salve that should keep the soreness out of your muscles." I let a small smile creep over my lips as I motion for Peeta to start walking.

"Well then, you better lead the way." I say, and almost instantly a wide smile breaks across Peeta's face as he turns to lead me in the direction of the infirmary. I can't help but wonder how long I'll be able to stay on good terms with both Cinna and Peeta. My guess is not very long.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Okay guys, I know this is a really short chapter but I wanted to give you something to hold you over as I am so busy with Nanowrimo and getting everything settled to attend my University of choice in the fall. I hope you guys like this, as it is a rather important part in the story. I'd go as far as to say **pivotal**! Let me know what you guys think and as always, thanks for reading! **

This is something I know. This is something I'm good at. I sit with stony stillness as Cinna flits around me, pinning my hair in just the right way, adding just the right amount of shadow to my eyelids. He has chosen a yellow sundress for me to wear tonight, and though I can't help but chortle at how immature it looks I also understand what he is doing. His plan is a simple one. In this first propaganda video we are shooting today he will make me look as young an innocent as possible. The video will only be a few moments long, but it will rock all of Panem. We are shooting Peeta and I's "reunion". All of Panem, the Capitol included, will watch as Peeta and I throw our arms around each other and embrace in the joy of our "first" meeting. Perhaps I'll cry, I haven't decided yet.

With a small grin Cinna dusts a small amount of shimmering powder on my cheeks and nose before helping me out of my chair, looking very self-satisfied as he wraps one of my curls around his fingers. "Very fetching." He says as he tucks the wayward strand back into place. "You look sixteen again." I roll my eyes.

"Over the years they have all seen me in dresses you would never put on a sixteen year old." I say, but Cinna simply shakes his head.

"Today they won't see you as an adult." He says as he kisses my forehead, causing my heart to skip a single beat. "They will see you as the child you were before…" As if remember everything Cinna's eyes harden and he steps back, clearing his throat. Still, there is a small smile on his lips and I know what he is thinking, or more like what he is trying not to think. Since our kiss he has acted almost as he had before we came to District Thirteen, not completely the same but close. He thinks I am his once more, and I don't have the heart to tell him that I do not belong to anyone any more. Even as I think it I know it's a lie.

"I know." I say as I stare down at my sandals. "I know." I repeat, trying to convince myself. We've already practiced what we will do a million times, Peeta and I. I will cry his name and we will run to each other. When we meet in the middle he will lift me into his arms and spin me around. I'll whisper that I thought he was dead and he will hold me close and say he's been waiting for me, then the scene will end. Once we are done filming it Beetee and Wiress will work their magic and get the video onto the Capitol's emergency broadcasting channel. Every television in all of Panem will be playing our reunion. The clip will be over before President Snow even realizes it's happening. Though I try not to let it the pressure feels like a horrible weight on my shoulder.

Cinna places his fingers under my chin and tilts my face up, his smile easy. "Don't worry." He whispers, and I feel my nerves calming. "You'll be fantastic." I let out a soft sigh; I've done this a million times before. Maybe not in the exact same way but I've been before more cameras than I can count. It's nothing new. Still, I can't seem to stop my heart from hammering like a humming bird.

"They'll know I'm alive after this." I whisper. "They'll start attacking District Thirteen." Cinna hums softly.

"President Coin has been preparing for that for years." He runs his thumb over my cheek, as if he is smoothing my already perfect makeup. "When the Capitol forces get here they will not find a decrepit little hole in the ground hiding beneath the earth, but a fully armed force ready to fight back." He gives me one more once over before kissing my cheek. "It is time." With a groan I step away from my chair and make my way towards the door. When his hand catches mine I hesitate. "Don't worry Kat, I'll be there the entire time." He gives me a comforting grin, and I can't help but feel him succeed in his mission to relax me.

My small dressing room is fitted just outside the space where we will be filming the propo video, and I can't think of a more appropriate venue. Just outside of District Thirteen, in the picturesque setting of the forest, we will find each other once more. It is rather symbolic. The Capitol represents order and civility, so where better to film this video, our happy reunion, that in the wilderness? I wonder if Coin was thinking this very thing when she handpicked this spot. There is a soft hum of excitement in the air as people hurry about with their duties. Off to the side Beetee fiddles with a light on a long stand, brightening it and dimming it with simple tugs of wires. Cressida, a Capitol Director who defected to District Thirteen, sits with her team and makes the finishing touches on their big bug-looking cameras. I'm about to turn back to Cinna and make some kind of light-hearted comment when an airy voice distracts me.

"You're so young." I turn towards the voice, my eyes widen as I see, simultaneously, the most beautiful and the most devastating woman I've ever seen before. Her hair hangs in loose waves down to her waist, her coppery skin is dusted with freckles, and her eyes are as wide and green as the sea. Those beautiful eyes, however, have a lost look in them, a tragic look. Finnick wraps his arm around her waist as she goes to step closer to me, restraining her.

"Slowly, Annie." He whispers with such tenderness I almost mistake it as someone else's voice. "People like space."

"But she's so young." She says once more, her voice light and gentle. "On the television she looked so old, as old as us. She's a child." She reaches out a hand slowly to touch my hair, but she stops. She leaves her hand hovering in the air for a while before Finnick lowers it slowly for her. "Katniss." She rolls my name over her tongue, as if she is tasting it. "You help Finnick. You help him every year. He likes you." I narrow my eyes as I try to think of an appropriate response. Before I can respond, however, the girl rushes forward and throws her arms around me, her lips so close to my ear I can hear her breathe. "Thank you for keeping Fin safe." She whispers before pulling away and returning to Finnick's side, clinging to his arm and looking into the distance as if it had never happened. For a moment I expect Finnick to blush with embarrassment and apologize for her outburst but he simply wraps his arm around her instead and leads her away, so enchanted by her that it is as if he has forgotten I'm standing here at all. For a while I just stare after the odd couple, the Heart Throb of Panem and the Mad Victor of District Four. A small smirk touches my lips, perhaps it isn't nearly as strange as some believe it is.

"Attention everyone!" Messalla says in a loud voice, calling everyone's attention to him. "We want to get this thing filmed in one shot while the lighting is just right, so if everyone could take their spots…" Without further prompting I move to the spot that was dictated as mine, smoothing the folds of my dress and tucking my curls into their appropriate places as my eyes catch Peeta, who is also taking his place across from me. Our eyes meet for a moment, and I feel ease flow through my veins. There is no reason to be nervous, I've hugged Peeta before. I've cried before. What should make this so difficult?

"And… Action." Cressida calls as all the Cameras are fixed on me. Taking only a moment to draw breath into my lungs I transform my face to one of disbelief and joy.

"Peeta!" I cry in a heartbreaking voice, and without hesitation he takes off in my direction, his arms pumping at his sides as he dodges trees and brush.

"Katniss!" The excitement in his voice starts me running, and though I know this isn't real I feel my heart thump in my chest. Without reservation I rush towards him, ignoring the dress and the way my sandals make it hard to run. All I can think of is reaching Peeta, everything else melts away. When we finally reach our middle-ground destination Peeta opens his arms and I jump into them. I let out a loud relieved laugh as he spins me around, his arms strong around me. After two full turns he slowly lowers me to the ground, his eyes transfixed on mine. There is so much within them; love, and desire, and a passion so fierce I lose myself in it.

"I thought you were dead." I choke out as I touch his face, and Peeta covers my hand in his. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it gently, his eyes closed.

"I've been waiting for you." He whispers just loud enough for the camera to hear, he opens his eyes once more and I feel I cannot contain the emotions those eyes create in me. Tears spill down my cheeks of their own accord, and Peeta reaches to brush them away. With my face cupped in his hands he pauses for a moment, his breath hitching. "I've been waiting for you." He repeats even softer before closing the distance between us.

His lips touch mine and suddenly everything is on fire.

My body trembles as I grab his forearms, clinging to him as his lips move against mine. Color erupts behind my closed eyelids as everything within me wakes, every piece of me that I had hidden away and forgotten all these years. Happiness, pure, true happiness, the first real happiness I've felt in years, pours through me as I melt into him. Everything is real, and alive, and beautiful, and I can't help but grin against his lips. He pulls me closer, holding me possessively and I return his fierce embrace as a realization hits me. I can't lose him, not again, I wouldn't be able to stand it. It's him, it's always been him. Nothing else matters, nothing else even compares to this rapture that washes over me. Every ounce of despair that had plagued me washes away as Peeta pulls away slowly, his bright blue eyes find mine in that heaven between the trees. He touches my face gently and the smile on his faces makes my heart soar.

"You'll never have to wait again." I whisper, pressing my nose and forehead to his. It isn't until someone stars clapping that Peeta and I remember that we are being filmed. With a start we pull apart, though our arms remain entangled. Cressida steps forward, handing her camera over to her assistant.

"That was perfect you two." There are tears in her eyes, real tears. "That's… that's a wrap everyone." In silence everyone begins packing their equipment, and as I turn back towards Peeta I see him. Cinna's face, usually so closed off and reserved, is full of despair. The look in his eyes causes a physical pain in my chest, as if I can feel his heart breaking within me.

"C'mon Katniss. Let's get inside before all the snacks are gone." Peeta chuckles, seeing neither Cinna's face nor mine as he grabs me hand and pulls me back towards District Thirteen. Though I follow him I cannot break my eyes away from Cinna's. The green eyes that are usually so full of life are now black holes threatening to pull me in. And for a moment, just a moment, I swear I see tears on his cheeks and the word 'no' on his lips.


	26. Chapter 26

Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks, and before I knew it a month had gone by and I have not seen Cinna once. I know District Thirteen is big but I never would have imagined that it was so big that so much time could go by without seeing him once. I try to be upset over his disappearance from my life, I try my best to make it ruin my mood, but try as I might I'm simply not as hurt over it as I should be. Sure, my mood is a little put off but I find that it is not so hard to go on with my life. I don't feel the need to go searching for him, I don't feel the responsibility to find him and make things better, and I can't help but wonder if that makes me the worst kind of person.

For years Cinna was all I depended on, all that kept me sane, and now he is gone and I feel nothing. Even in the moments when I do feel the agony of losing him Peeta will smile at me or take my hand or kiss me and it would be as if everything else vanished. When I am with Peeta it is as if nothing in the world even exists outside of the two of us. He is all I can ever see, all I can ever hear, all I can ever feel, or smell, or even know. I love him with everything within me, every little nook and cranny that the heart break of losing him had left behind he filled so perfectly in a way Cinna never had. We are meant for each other, Peeta and I. Resisting him would be like trying to resist the ocean, futile and in all reality rather stupid.

So I let him over take me. I let him become the sun of my life and the stars in my sky. I let his currents wash forward and pull me under, allow his tides to move me. I give him the power to completely unmake me, and never once has he abused it. When he looks at me I know that what he tells me is true, I know that he means it when he says he loves me, that he would have waited an eternity for me. There is no questioning his motives, or his actions, there is no questioning him. When he tells me that he will follow me to the ends of the earth all I can do is smile and tell him that I would do the same.

There is no fighting the ocean.

I'm so deep in the realization of this that I don't even realize he had entered the room until his arms are wrapped around my middle, his chin resting on my shoulders. I close my eyes as I lean back into him, sighing as I take in the smell of him. Baking bread, and charred wood, and that faint hint of burning soot all of us from District Twelve carry around. "You look very deep in thought." He says softly as he kisses my neck, sending chills throughout every cell in my body, commanding them to wake up.

"I was." I say as I turn in his arms to face him, my hands rested on his chest. "But it's rather hard to think of much when you're around." I say coyly, but he simply smiles and kisses the space between my eyes.

"Well, Soldier Everdeen, I'm afraid I can't really find it within myself to apologize for that." He says with a smile. "I-" Suddenly an alarm is blazing, and all other sounds are blocked out. Peeta goes ridged as he pulls away from my arms, gripping my hand tightly as he pulls me out of my room.

"Is this another drill?" I ask Peeta with quirked eyebrows. This week alone we've had three high emergency drills, as President Coin was growing more and more paranoid about that lack of reaction from the Capitol. I was quite nervous about that as well, but in my own mind I had convinced myself that they didn't want the citizens to know there was a District Thirteen, so they swept it all under the rug to keep it quiet. Then again it's been a month, who is to say that the shock of the Victor's disappearing hasn't worn out? Maybe now is the time they have chosen to retaliate.

In neat orderly lines everyone files out of their places of work and homes and moves as one into the bowls of District Thirteen, hiding in the bomb shelters far beneath the earth. While moving past the Infirmary I see my mother and Prim hurrying to lead the sick and injured out, burley men assisting them in the patients that are too heavy for them to carry. At the moment Prim is holding an infant while my mother helps its mother down the halls.

"This was exciting the first few times, now I find it rather annoying." Finnick says in a low voice as he appears at my side, his arm wrapped around Annie who is covering her ears against the noise. The blaring of the sirens gets softer and softer the closer we get to the shelter, as if it's chasing us away from the place of danger.

"I know, you think we'd be as prepared as we-" Suddenly the ground trembles and the lights flicker as dust falls from the ceiling. This isn't a drill. I look to Peeta with wide eyes, fear shocking through me. His expression is one of grim determination.

"Just keep moving." He says softly and I grip Finnick's hand with my free one to stop us from getting separated. As we continue with the crowed I crane my neck to make sure that Prim and my mother haven't gone back to the infirmary. I let out a slow breath as I see them marching along with the rest of us. The hall way turns steep as steps appear and we pass through a huge metal door. I look around the cave we've found ourselves in multiple times, ready to move to the small section that belongs to my mother, my sister and me. "I'll come see you when everything settles down." Peeta says as he kisses my forehead and heads in the direction of his shelter. Finnick gives my hand one last squeeze and heads off with Annie.

With sure steps I make my way over to my little space, sitting on my bed as I watch the inflow of people. Every once in a while I glance between the different sections of the people I care about, watching as they fill up, meaning my friends are safe. I grip the thin mattress beneath me as I watch the stream of people coming in through the door. There is only one person I haven't seen yet, one brown haired, green eyed man who has yet to make an appearance. As the stream of people thins to a trickle panic grips me. Cinna isn't here in the shelter, he's above somewhere. Without my order my legs make me stand and carry me back up the steps, hurrying through the still open door. The men there make a move to stop me but I slip between them and rush through the halls, searching for Cinna.

Another bomb hits and I am thrown against the wall, the lights now all off. I feel my way through the darkness, my heart hammering in my chest. "Cinna!" I call out, coughing against the dust. "Cinna where are you?" The lights come back on and I run once more, jumping over fallen pieces of plaster and avoiding broken glass on the floor. I run as fast and as far as I can, sweeping through corridor after corridor shouting his name as panic over comes me. They'll be closing the door soon, I can tell by the dying of the siren, but I will not leave Cinna here to die alone.

"Katniss!" I hear Peeta yell, and turn just in time to see him bounding towards me. "Katniss what the hell are you doing?" He screams over the sirens as he grabs ahold of my hand. "It's not safe here!" I try to pull my hand out of his grip but find it useless.

"Cinna is still up here!" The look of shock that passes through Peeta's eyes startles me.

"Where is his workshop?" He asks, but I shake my head.

"I don't know!" There are tears in my eyes now, and another bomb, the closest hit of all of them so far, sends Peeta and I both to the floor. Peeta lands on top of me, covering my body with his as sections of the ceiling come down.

"C'mon, we need to get in the shelter!" Peeta says as he gets up, grabbing my arms and pulling me with him.

"We have to find Cinna!" I screech, panic white hot in my chest. "I can't just leave him!" Peeta shakes his head.

"We have no choice!"

"There is always a choice!" Peeta looks down at his feet and sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm really sorry for this, Katniss, but I'm not letting you die up here." Before I have the chance to question him Peeta bends over and puts his shoulder into my stomach, grabbing my arm and leg as he stands back up, me over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" I cry as he runs through the halls towards the shelter, dodging the obstacles that fall in our way. "We have to find Cinna!"

"We have to get to safety!" Peeta replies gruffly, carrying us through the wreckage towards the shelter. We get there just as the door begins to slide close. "Hold it!" Peeta yells, and the doormen obey. Just as Peeta carries me through the door another bomb hits that rattles the shelter. The men do not hesitate in closing the door behind us, spinning the great wheel on it to lock it closed. As soon as we are down the steps Peeta puts me down, and I put my fist in his stomach as hard as I can.

"How could you?" I growl, hardly aware that all eyes are now on me. Peeta's doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach as he coughs.

"I'm not letting you die." He gets out between coughs as he stands slowly. "I lost you once; I'm not losing you again." I feel tears stream down my face as I look at all the people in the room, studying every face individually. Cinna isn't here. I shake as Peeta comes forward, wrapping his arms around me. I know that he was only doing what he thought was best, but I push him off of me regardless and storm away, my eye catching familiar brown hair just as I'm about to enter my living area.

He's lying on a cot in the small area designated for the sick and injured, and relief like a flood washes over me. Without reservation I run to him, dropping to the side of his cot as I look down at his injured leg. It is bloody and though that usually disturbs me I find that it hardly bothers me now. I grip his hand in my own, causing his eyes to flutter open. His face is flushed and his eyes bright from the pain, but the strength of his grip on mine gives me hope. "Katniss?" He whispers, and I stroke his hair away from his face.

"What happened to you?" I ask softly and he winces.

"The first bomb…" He begins softly. "It hit my workshop; something fell from the ceiling onto my leg. I would have never made it out if the soldiers who found me hadn't through to go down my hallway." He says, his face contorting in pain and I lean back away from him.

"Move over Katniss." Prim says as she appears at my side with a needle. "This will dull the pain, Cinna. It will also help you sleep." She says before turning to me. "Help me roll him on his side." Obediently I help my sister move the man onto his side, and watch in fascination as she pulls down his pants just a little. She wipes the spot on his lower back with a small piece of cloth before sinking the needle into his skin. "It's going to burn a little." She says as she injects him with the fluid before pulling the needle out. Carefully we let him back down on his back and Prim moves over to help the next person, discarding the used needle in a small plastic box on her hip.

"Damn, that does burn." Cinna hisses and I can't help but laugh as I find his hand once more.

"I went looking for you when you weren't here." I say quietly, and he glares at me.

"You went back out there?" There is anger in his voice, but I roll my eyes.

"You would have done the same for me." I say as I look him over. Other than his legs he looks pretty okay to me, at least from what I can tell. "I'd probably still be out there if Peeta hadn't grabbed me and dragged me back." I huff, and Cinna's frown only deepens.

"He shouldn't have let you go in the first place." Now it's my turn to glare at him.

"He didn't let me go; I left as soon as I realized you weren't here." Once more Cinna shakes his head.

"He should have stopped you before you even got out the door. You should not have been out there with the attack going on." I narrow my eyebrows as I pull away from him. "If you had gotten hurt-"

"Do you think I would have just sat in here and waited, hoping that you would survive out there?" I spit, my lips in a thin line. "I wasn't going to let you die out there."

"It wouldn't matter if I had!" He growls, and I am so surprised by his words I can no longer find it in me to be angry. For a moment I just stare at him, my mouth hung open in shock.

"What?" I blink rapidly as I stare at him. Cinna lets out a long yawn as the medicine begins to kick in.

"You are the revolution, Kat. I don't matter. If the rebellion loses you they will lose everything." He closes his eyes as he settles in. "I like whatever it is that Prim gave me." He says with a soft smile.

"You matter to me." I whisper, and at this he lets out a soft chuckle.

"Not nearly as much as I used to." He breathes. "And that's okay." His breath evens out and he begins snoring softly. I sit by his side for a moment longer and watch him sleep. He doesn't look as if he hasn't been eating, other than his leg he looks perfectly healthy. He hasn't been starving himself over me, he hasn't been losing sleep, and while that does make me feel better I can't help but wonder what exactly that means. Has he simply accepted defeat and decided to try living as best as he can? A hand on my shoulder nearly makes me jump.

"You need to return to our shelter, Katniss." My mother says as she helps me up, nudging me in the direction of our little cubby hole. Once inside I lie myself down on the bed as the bombs continue shaking the shelter. Part of me wants to be happy that Cinna isn't destroying himself, but the other half of me wishes he was. Some selfish dark part of me believes this means he doesn't love me anymore, and while I might never have loved him I'm still cruel enough to want his love. I turn my back on the opening and close my eyes just as I hear someone scream.

Instantly I jump out of bed and rush towards Peeta's living area, fighting my way through the people also moving towards him. When I get to the doorway I find him on the floor, his body curled into a ball as he cries out again and again. "Get help!" I order to anyone as I crouch beside him, rolling him over onto his back as his body thrashes. "What's wrong, Peeta? What's happening?" Acidic fears rolls in my stomach as two large men enter the room followed by Plutarch Havensbee.

"Take him to the Infirmary!" Havensbee orders, a look of great sadness on his face. The two men move me out of the way as they grab onto Peeta and haul him up, meriting another scream from him. My eyes water as I watch them take him away in confusion, I can still hear him screaming.

"What's happening to him?" I ask Plutarch as the lights flicker once more, my breath coming in ragged and broken sobs. He runs a hand over his balding head and takes in a deep breath as he looks to me, his eyes full of guilt and despair.

"He's dying."


	27. Chapter 27

_**A/N: Just to let you know this is not the last chapter. And… I'm sorry. I really truly am. I know you might be mad at me after this but I beg of you please review, I really really really want to know what you guys think of this. **_

For an immeasurable amount of time I just stand there, my eyes wide and my lips slightly slacked apart. Dying. Peeta is dying. Never before has a word sounded so devastating, so final. I wrap my arms around myself as I stare into Plutarch's eyes, praying to see a lie there, but I don't. I let out a half choked sob as I cover my mouth, my stomach turning as its contents threaten to make an appearance. "D-dying?" I cough out, surprised at just how hard the word is to say. "What do you mean d-dying?" Plutarch looks over his shoulder in the direction of the infirmary. He turns back to me and shakes his head, as if he's trying to come up with a way to explain what is happening in a way I'll understand.

I lean against the wall as my knees begin to tremble, fighting to stay in an upright position as my world tumbles down. I lost Peeta once, I can't lose him again. For four years I thought he was dead and I just got him back. Was the universe so cruel as to take him from me before…. Before… The thought dies in my mind, before what? Before we even had time to love at all, I would suppose, but it feels so much deeper than that. Was the universe so cruel as to take him from me before we even had the chance to live?

Plutarch rubs the back of his neck, his eyes full of guilt. "I haven't been very truthful with you, Miss Everdeen." He says softly, and I grip the wall for support, ready for whatever story he can throw at me.

"Well you better start now." I hiss, and he nods.

"When I brought you to here… When I first told you of how Peeta had survived the games…." I feel my breath catch in my throat. "He didn't. He didn't survive the Hunger Games." Suddenly it is as if the weight of the world tumbles down onto my shoulders and I find I cannot stand beneath it. I sink to me knees.

"What?" I ask, tears now running down my face like rivers as I look up at the man before me. He crosses the tiny room to sit on the bed opposite me, his hands on his knees and his head hung slightly.

"I tried to get Peeta out of there before his time was up, I really did try, but he had lost so much blood. There was no saving him; he was gone before the Hovercraft even got there. There was nothing I could do." My whole body begins to tremble as the horrible realization sinks in, Peeta was never in District Thirteen.

"The first generation of humanoid mutts…" I mutter, and Plutarch nods, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket to dab his face with. "But you said they never lived more than a few moments." I narrow my eyebrows as I look at him, waiting for him to make some kind of explanation that will make all of this better, though I know no such thing exists.

"There was one who did." He murmurs. "When all the others died he lived on, he grew more and more like the real Peeta every day. He holds every memory Peeta ever had, every emotion too. When I brought him to District Thirteen it was like I really had plucked him from the games. He was so… real." I shake my head, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. All of this is wrong, sick and wrong and I don't even know how to comprehend it all.

"All this time…" I whisper for fear that speaking louder will make it true. "That wasn't Peeta?" Plutarch leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees.

"Wasn't it?" There is a glint in his eyes, a hint of excitement, the look of a mad scientist speaking of his protégé. It makes me want to stab his eyes out. "If he has all of his memories, all of his feelings, every ounce of him that made him him, is he not Peeta?" He motions out to the infirmary. "Does being created instead of born give him any less of a right to live or love?"

"But he wasn't… he never." I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to make peace with the idea. When he had kissed him it was like everything was real for the first time, and now I'm discovering that even that was a lie. Peeta died in the arena, Peeta never saw District Thirteen or me again. He died afraid and alone, his leg bleeding and his body ravaged by fever.

"He loves you just as much as the man he was created after." Plutarch leans forward a bit more, and I hope he doesn't try to come any closer. If he does I might not be able to control my actions.

"Peeta died in the Arena!" I shout, my voice cracking with the emotions I can't hide.

"Peeta is dying right now!" I blink a few times, unsure of how to process this information. "Mutts aren't mean to survive, they all have an expiration date, and the more intricate the Mutt the sooner that date is." Plutarch looks out the door with a certain kind of anguish on his face, as if he is remembering a very happy memory that has now been tainted with sadness. "I always knew it was only a matter of time, I only hoped it would be longer than this." I hide my face in my hands as the thoughts all fight in my head, pulling at my hair in my frustration. Peeta died four years ago, he's dying now, Peeta never kissed me outside the cave, but he kissed my earlier today. My heart hammers as I try my best to understand everything, but it's like trying to grasp at smoke. It's like learning your life was a lie, only to realize that it actually wasn't, but maybe it was? I hit my head back against the wall as I struggle to comprehend what has come to light. "He needs you." Plutarch murmurs, breaking me from my inner conflict.

"What?" I ask, my eyes narrowed at the man who destroyed my world.

"He needs you." He repeats, a strange sort of softness in his eyes. "He's in pain, Katniss. He doesn't know he is… what he is, and it would be the cruelest thing in the world to tell him now." He says as he rubs his hands over his hair. "He'll need you now." A part of me, a selfish part, doesn't want to go, doesn't want to believe that everything Plutarch has said is true. I shake my head, pushing myself into a standing position as I take deep breaths to calm myself.

"This conversation isn't over." I say menacingly, but Plutarch simply nods and I leave the room. With careful feet I rush over to the infirmary, shoving past the people in my way. Peeta is dying, even if it is not the original one, and I don't plan on letting him die alone. When I finally get to where he was taken I'm surprised by what I see. The people of District Thirteen have made a circle around him, giving him space while still not leaving him alone. What surprises me, however, is that Cinna is sitting on the edge of his bed, clasping Peeta's hand in his.

"You can't do this." Cinna mutters, and from where I am I can see the tears in his eyes. "She needs you. So much more than you know. I've never seen her so… so…" I take a few steps closer and Cinna must see me because he stands up, his body leaning at an awkward angle to keep his weight off his damaged leg. I move closer, my face devoid of emotion as I touch Cinna's face before taking his place at Peeta's side. At the sight of me his blue eyes brighten up, blue eyes that I have seem a million times. I feel as if a hand has reached into my chest and squeezed my heart.

"Hey Katniss." Peeta says weakly, his lips curled up in a small smile.

"Hey Peeta." I whisper back, tears rolling down my cheeks once more. With a trembling hand he reaches up and moves to wipe them away, but I catch the hand instead, pressing it to my lips. Even if he isn't the Peeta that threw me the bread he still looks like him, smells like him, acts like him, thinks like him, feels like him, what else is there that could make him anymore Peeta?

"I don't like it when you cry." His voice is trembling now, and I grip his hand a little tighter.

"Don't leave." I sob out, closing my eyes as I hold his hand to my face. "I just got you back… Please-"

"Shh." He mutters, opening his arms to me. Carefully I swing my legs up onto the cot and lie down beside him, my head on his chest and his arms around me. With one hand on my back and the other on the back of my head Peeta presses small kisses into my hair and I listen to his heartbeat, willing it to continue. "I love you, you know." He says, and I let out another strangled sob.

"Don't say that." I grip his shirt tightly in my fingers. "Don't say that like it's the end." He rubs my back gently and I hear his heartbeat begin to slow.

"I always have, from the first day I saw you in school." He laughs softly, but it is a broken sound. "You had your hair in two braids back then instead of one." I shake my head, willing him to fight, willing him to live.

"Don't talk like that." I hiss. "Just… Just stop-"

"But I always dreamed you'd one day love me back. I was always jealous of Gale, jealous of the time he got to spend with you, jealous of the way you knew him and not me. Sometimes I thought you two were in love, and that hurt more than anything else." He takes a moment to stop and breath, and I can hear that it is becoming difficult for him. "Do you love me, Katniss?"

"Of course I do." I cry, not understanding how he can sound so peaceful when every beat of his heart sounds weaker than the last.

"Please say it." His voice almost sounds heavy, as if he's simply falling asleep. "I need to hear you say it." I take my head off his chest and look up at him. His eyes are open but only just, and all the color has drained from his cheeks. I scoot up slowly and cup his cheek with my hand.

"I love you, Peeta. More than I've ever loved anything." His eyes find mine and the small smile on his lips sends warmth through my otherwise frozen heart.

"Then nothing else matters." He whispers, he closes his eyes but continues breathing. I look up slowly, everyone is watching us with a hawk like stares, and not a single one of their faces is dry.

"Remember the day I threw you the bread, Katniss?" I turn back towards him, the others can wait.

"Yes." He opens his eyes slightly once more to look at me.

"Can you tell me what it was like for you… I want to know." I settle myself back down on his chest, my ear carefully listening for the sound of his heart. It's weak, and diminishing, but it's still there.

"You already know that." I whisper, hiding my face as tears roll down my cheeks. "I told you in the cave." He laughs, a soft rumbling sound.

"I was half delusional then, I barely remember." I close my eyes against the tears and try my best to forget the horrible truth Plutarch told me. This Peeta never heard my tale of how he found me behind his house, how he threw me the bread.

"I was rooting through your garbage cans for food-"

"And my mother came out and yelled at you to go away." Peeta's heart picks up slightly, but the strain in beats is answered by a drastic slow afterwards. My mouth struggles at the corners, trying to decide if it wants to open or close, smile or frown. "But I saw you from behind my mother. I saw how thin you were, how hopeless. I knew I had to do something, so I tossed the bread into the fire and burnt it." I nod against his chest.

"I always wondered if you did it intentionally or if it really was an accident." I say as I try to control my sobs.

"It was on purpose." His voice is barely above a whisper now. "I wanted to help you-"

"So you tore off the burnt bits and threw the rest to me." I hold onto his shirt as tightly as I can, my entire body trembling now. "I tucked the bread under my shirt, and even though it burnt my skin it still felt… good. Like I had a chance." Peeta's arms loosen around me, but his struggling heart still beats in his chest. "For years I wanted to thank you, but I didn't know how. I didn't know how I could ever thank you for saving my family." I listen carefully as the time between his heart beats grows longer and longer.

"You never needed to thank me." Were I not so close to him I wouldn't have heard him at all. "I couldn't let you starve." Unable to contain myself anymore I sobbed openly, my body trembling as I waited for his next heartbeat, but it doesn't come. Slowly I looked up at his face; his eyes are closed and there is a faint smile on his lips. I reachout a gentle hand, he's still warm. Like a wounded animal I scream, an inhuman sound that I never even imagined I could make. It is like the howl straight from my soul, the very sound a heart makes as it breaks. I scream and I scream and I scream until my breath runs out and my body shakes and I'm so light headed I can't see straight. I press my forehead against his, my tears dripping down his cheeks and into his golden hair.

"No no no no no." I sob, my body rattling with the pain I can't contain, the pain that threatens to swallow me whole. "No, Peeta no. No no no." I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up to see Cinna staring down at me, a similar kind of heart break in his eyes. "Don't touch me!" I growl at him as I throw myself over Peeta's body, my face buried in the crook of his neck as I continue sobbing, the entire rest of the world blacked out.

_I am running as fast as I can, begging my feet to carry me just a little faster. With the District Twelve bag thrown over my shoulder I make my way through the forest at top speed, jumping over fallen logs and small holes as I come to them. I had heard the canon before, but who was to say that it belonged to Peeta? There are still plenty of people left in the Game, plenty of lives to be lost where I can't see them. Peeta is still alive, he has to be alive, there is no other option. If he is dead- I grit my teeth against the thought, it's to painful. _

_When I reach the stream I push harder, knowing that I'm so very close to Peeta. I just need him to hold on long enough for me to give him the medicine I know is in the bag. Once I do that he will be fine, he will get up and walk around and together we will win this game and go home. We will win together. We will move into the Victor's village and live out the rest of our lives in surplus and splendor. We'll never want for anything again. We'll never go hungry again. _

_When I finally get to the cave, however, I find it empty. _

_For a moment I just stand there, my mouth slacked open and my heart hammering from the exertion of running. He's gone, he's not here. Keeping the bag on my shoulder I turn around quickly, maybe he's just dragged himself away to relieve himself; maybe he's around here somewhere. For the greater part of an hour I search the area around our cave, but there is nothing, not even a smudge of blood he would have left behind if he had tried to crawl. When the hope leaves me, when I finally realize that he is gone, I sink to my knees, throwing the bag of medicine as far away from myself as I can. I cover my face with my hands, shaking and trembling as I realize that I will not be going home with Peeta. Peeta is dead. _

_I turn my face towards the sky and scream. _

I am broken from the memory as suddenly as I fell into it, and realize that I'm being pulled away from Peeta. As soon as I know it's happening I kick with all my might, struggling to get free of the hand that hold me. He's so close, mere feet away. At least this time I can say goodbye, I don't have to lose him without any sort of closure. I fight with my captors will all of my strength, and am ashamed to find that my strength is nothing when compared to theirs. "It's okay, Katniss. It's okay." Finnick says in my ear, his hands pinning my arms at my sides. "Everything will be alright."

"Someone get her mom over here!" Johanna calls, her arms encircling my chest. "For the love of god, fucking give her something!" I scream once more, thrashing like a beast in a cage as they pull me down onto another bed, one that does not allow me a view of Peeta.

"Let me go!" I yell, my voice ragged and broken. "Let me go." Finnick and Johanna pin me down against the bed, and I can feel hands on my face.

"Shh, it's going to be alright, love." Cinna whisperes, his voice so close to my ear. His voice, which usually calms me, sends me into a frenzy. A number of others come forward to help the Victors in their mission to keep me from Peeta, and under all their hands I cannot move.

"Please." I sob. "Please." Suddenly my mother's face comes into view, sweet and full of tears.

"Don't worry sweetheart." She says in a dreamlike voice. "This will help." I watch as she fills a syringe from a bottle, and though I try to fight I simply can't.

"No no no." I whisper. "Please." But they don't hear me. I feel the sting of the needle sliding under my skin, and the burn of the liquid entering my body. It only takes moments for it to work, and I feel my body relax.

"That was fast. " Finnick says softly as he removes his hands, and though I know now is my chance I cannot make myself move.

"She's having a panic attack." I hear my mother's voice, but I must have closed my eyes because I cannot see anything but darkness. "Her heart is beating so quickly it pushed the medicine through her body."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"After some rest, yes. But… I don't think she'll ever really be okay."

"I know how she feels, she'll never be okay. Even if she tries her best to seem as if she is it will all be a lie. When you lose someone you love more than you love yourself you never get better, a piece of you dies with them. She'll never be okay."


	28. Chapter 28

I'm numb. I can't feel anything. Not my mother's hands on my face, my sister's tears on my shoulder, Finnick's arms around me, Cinna's lips on my cheeks, Annie's fingers in my hair, Johanna's eyes on my back. Nothing. It is as if I am coming home from the games once more, but this time there is no home to go to. Everything I had once called home is gone, from my shack in the seam to my house in the Victor's Village, it's all gone. District Twelve is gone. When the Capitol realized that bombing District Thirteen really didn't further their agenda as much as they had hoped they turned on their own Districts. They turned on their own people. District Twelve was the first to go up in flames, and once the bombs were dropped then four was the next to fall. From what I've heard four is still standing, even if just barely, but there is nothing left of Twelve. Nothing but a smoldering pile of ash and rubble. The coal dust that painted everything black colored everything red when the bombs struck. There were no survivors. There was no time.

In this numbess I have come to live in there is no passage of time. Days turn to weeks as I sit in my room staring at the wall, and I hardly even notice it at all. It is as it was when Gale died, only now not even Cinna's kisses can pull me free. There is nothing within me anymore. There is no hope, no joy, no life, nothing. Nothing but black emptiness, the hole that is left behind when your soul is stolen from you. I'm sure I should cry over the loss of Peeta, the loss of District Twelve, the loss of everything I had once loved and held dear, but I can't. It's not as if I don't have tears to cry, or I've cried too much, I simply can't. I don't need to. Life is easier to live when you're numb.

But then again, what is this life really?

The only way I can mark the time is by the visitors I have, as they come at the same time each day, in the same order. Each day is exactly the same as the last, each and every day like this.

There is no place between sleeping and awake for me anymore, as soon as I open my eyes I am thrown into consciousness. Annie is here, kneeling on the floor at eye level with me. She blinks; her too-green eyes wide and watery. "Come on Katniss." She murmurs as she stands and pulls me into a seated position. Once there she climbs onto the bed behind me and runs a brush she always brings through my hair. She chatters on aimlessly about the weather, about the food, about things I can't see and things I can't hear, but mostly she talks about Finnick. She says she knows how I feel, that she was in the same place, that Finnick pulled her out of the depths and saved her. She wonders if Cinna will be able to do the same for me. She says it took Finnick a long time to get to her, and it will take Cinna an equally long time to get to me. I don't believe her, but I don't say anything.

When Annie is done braiding my hair she stands and moves towards the door. Just as her hand reaches for the knob it opens and my mother walks in, a fresh set of cloths in her hands. "Has she said anything?" She asks, but Annie simply shakes her head, like always. My mother nods and helps me undress, throwing the soiled clothes into a hamper and pulling the clean uniform over my head, gently pulling Annie's intricate braid out from the collar. When they are finished they both kiss me on the head and leave the room. I sit here, surrounded by my own silence, until the door opens once more and Finnick walks in, his hands full of white cubes.

"Care for a sugar cube?" He asks, as always, and when I don't respond he drops himself into the chair beside my bed and puts his elbows on his knees, threading his hands through his hair. "You've no idea how hard it is seeing you like this." He murmurs, running his hands over his face. "With Annie I knew what to say, knew how to help her get over the Games, but what can I say to you? What can I do to help?" He looks at me expectantly, but as always his look goes unrewarded. I stare at the wall to the left of his head, not really thinking, or even listening for that matter. After a while he grows tired of my silence and stands, but he leaves a sugar cube on my desk just in case I change my mind. Right next to all the others. He's started to make a pyramid out of them.

When Finnick is gone it's Cinna's turn to come in, and though his visits should be the hardest for me I don't even feel the slightest twinge when he seats himself on the edge of my bed and pulls me into his arms. He holds me, tears slipping down his cheeks as he begs me to come back, and he tells me he wishes it was him instead. He whispers that he knows I'll never love him, that it doesn't matter to him. He knows he'll never be Peeta and he wishes more than anything that it had been him who died. I should correct him, I should tell him that I would never want to lose him, but I don't. I can't. And every day when Cinna visits his eyeliner is just a little more uneven, his hair just a little more unkempt. Before long he'll be just like me. I should care about that, but I don't.

After Cinna comes Johanna, and her visits perplex me the most. She just sits there, staring at me, leaning back in her chair with her feet propped up on my bed. Sometimes I stare back at her, sometimes I don't even bother facing her. Today, however, something different happens. For once Johanna sighs and runs her fingers through her short dark hair. She leans forward in her seat, dropping her boots to the ground as she stares at me. She looks as if she wants to say something, alternating between opening her mouth and shutting it once more repeatedly. Finally, after many failed attempts, she placed her hairs on her knees and squares her shoulders off to me. "You think you're the only one who has lost someone?" She asks with an angry edge in her voice. I don't respond, but I highly doubt she as actually expecting a response of any kind. "You think you're the only one who has had someone stolen from them by the Capitol?" She almost laughs, but it doesn't quite come out. Instead a strangled sound gurgles from her lips, a sound that if half mad.

"Let me tell you a story, girl on fire." She says with a hiss. "Once upon a time, in a land far far away there was a girl, who despite all odds survived a horrible ordeal and came home a champion." She pauses for a moment and narrows her eyes farther then they already had been until they are nothing but dark slits. "When she got home everything seemed perfect, until one day a snake came to visit her. He told her she'd have to do something, something not very nice. He said that if she didn't do it, if she didn't listen to him, something bad would happen, but what did she do? She turned and walked away. She was so convinced that her survival would protect her that she didn't heed the snakes words, and do you know what happened?" Her eyes are hard, her lips pressed in a thin line, she looks as if she's going to jump through the space between us and throttle me with her bare hands, but I don't move, and I certainly don't answer.

Johanna sits back in her seat. "Her little brother was the first to die." She says quietly. "Crushed by a tree, they told her, but she knew better." She taps her temple, as if for emphasis. "Then her parents, a saw accident at the mill. Her best friend followed shortly after- a bout of the flu. They saved her boyfriend for last; the love of her life, the only person who had been able to help her get through her nightmares." There are tears in Johanna's eyes, tears I don't even know how to comprehend. "He… they killed him right before her very eyes. A bullet straight to the heart. For treason, they said. But it wasn't his treason." The tears slip down her cheeks as her lips quiver, and for the first time I see Johanna as something less than a hardened rock, something other than a merciless machine. I see her as a young girl, alone and frightened and in pain. "It was mine." Her voice breaks, and she tilts her head forward, her shoulders shaking with the sobs she has obviously repressed for a very long time. Her display of emotion, however, doesn't last long. Before even thirty seconds has passed she throws her head back and wipes the tears from her eyes, pushing her hair back into place as her red and puffy eyes harden once more.

"Don't let them win, Katniss." She mutters with a voice as hard as steel. "Don't let them break you. You can sulk all you want but don't get apathetic." She stands from her seat, and though my eyes follow her I don't move. "Get mad." With that she leaves the room, and I'm left sitting and staring at the door once more.

Other than Johanna outburst this is how my day does, every day. They come, they try to reach me, they go, and every day their stays get shorter. Each of them hardly stays for more than an hour now, and tomorrow I know they will stay just a little less. It will go on like this until finally they don't come at all. It'll be easier on everyone that way. They won't have to see me like this, and I won't have to- well I don't do anything as it is.

For a couple hours, or is could have been mere minutes, I sit on my bed, waiting for my mother and sister to come and try to make me eat before putting me to bed once more. Food tastes like ash and it doesn't sit well in my stomach. I'm not hungry so I don't eat. It's as simple as that. When I first refused to eat Prim had cried so hard, she had accused me of trying to starve myself so I can be with Peeta again. Maybe that is what I'm doing, or rather, what my body is doing. Maybe it is trying to die so I can be with him again, but I don't think that's very likely, and if it is my body is doing it of its own free will.

Though there isn't a clock in my room, or any other way to tell time, I know it's far too early for my mother and Prim to come when the door opens again, and as my life has been rather routine until today I don't know what to expect. The woman enters the room and seats herself in the chair Johanna occupied last; it takes me a few minutes to realize who she is. It's the eyes that get me, the blue eyes I had always searched for life, for the will to fight, for the sanity she was trying to cling to. She has her mother's eyes. The woman sits there, staring at me with something close to hatred in those blue eyes, but I just stare back emotionlessly.

"They say you won't talk." She says in barely more than a whisper. "That's okay; all I want you to do is listen, if you can even do that." She scoots her chair a little closer, leaning forward to stare me down. "You left her." The woman hisses, her face puckered and furious. "You left her on her own, to face the Capitol. You forgot about her, didn't you? Hidden away here in safety while the District burned. You forgot she even existed!" Her hand finds my leg on the bed, her nails biting into my flesh, but I don't feel it. I see the blood welling from the crescent shaped holes she's made but it doesn't quite reach me.

"They have her now." The woman growls, but her anger falters as her pain and desperation makes themselves apparent. "The Capitol, they have Alice. They took her, along with all the other Victor's, back to the Capitol, no one knows where they are, or what's happening to them. I haven't heard from her in months." Alice's mother grabs my hand, squeezing it. "Wake up, Katniss! Alice needs you! You need to find her! You need to save her." There are tears rolling down her cheeks, tears of anger, tears just like Johanna's. "They have her, don't you even care?" She cries, her face turning angry once more. "Don't you care?" She screams, and the door opens once more. She lunges for me, grabbing the front of my shirt and shaking me violently. "You saved her once! You brought her home! Do it again! God damnit get out of that bed and save her! Save Alice! Save my baby!" I can hear her screams as they drag her all the way down the hall, it's not silent again till my door closes shut and I fall back against my mattress.

Between Johanna's story and Alice's mother's arrival I find myself quite perplexed. The day had started out so ordinary, and yet now it has taken a complete turn. I wonder if things will go back to the way they were tomorrow, or will things keep changing? I allow the thoughts of that to carry me to sleep until voices outside my door have my ears straining to hear them. It's Plutarch and Coin, and they aren't even bothering themselves with trying to keep their voices down, they think I'm not listening.

"Isn't there anything else we can do?" Plutarch asks. "She's been like this far too long, she won't be any good to the Rebellion-"

"The Doctor said she'll need time." Coin says in an even voice. "Time to heal, time to accept, time to adjust. "

"We don't have time!" Plutarch says in an exasperated voice. "With the Capitol taking out their anger on the Districts we don't have time for her to come to herself again in her own time. We need her now!"

"What good would she be in the state she's in?" I can almost imagine Coin shaking her head in my mind. "How inspiring could she be when she's completely catatonic?"

"Well that's why I'm asking if there is anything else we can do." Plutarch murmurs. "I mean, isn't there something we can give her?"

"There isn't a magical cure for what ails her." Coin says briskly. "We can't give her a pill that will bring her back. Either she'll get better or she won't." Plutarch lets out a frustrated groan. "Besides, it isn't as if she's that vital, she's served all the purpose she's been needed for."

"Hardly!" Plutarch scoffs. "She could be so much more! She could be the face of the Rebellion, the bleeding heart leading the Districts to a better world!"

"We don't need a leader." Coin hisses, and I imagine Plutarch cowering at the sound. "We needed a martyr, and Peeta's doppelganger saw to that." There a moment of silence, and a single word forms in my mind. _What?_

"Keep your voice down!" Slowly I sit up in bed, careful not to make a sound as the mattress shifts under my adjusting weight. "If people figure out you knew about it-"

"They won't know." Coin regains her composure, but I'm on my feet. "All we needed was a death to spur the revolution into action. When my address to the Districts aired, you saw how they reacted. When I told them he was killed by Capitol spies they nearly went after Snow themselves!"

"And you saw what happen to the loudest voices!" Plutarch sounds frightened. "District Twelve, District Four-"

"Minor setbacks." Minor setbacks. The words echo in my mind. Minor setbacks. The death of literally thousands of people is a minor setback. I move towards the door, my arms shaking at my sides.

Minor setbacks.

"How can you say that?" Plutarch almost sounds disgusted, but he hides it well.

Minor setbacks.

"Because when the smoke clears and the video we made today airs there aren't enough Peacekeepers in all of Panem to stop what will happen." I can hear the smirk in Coin's voice, and the trembling stops. For the first time in so long I feel something.

_Minor setbacks._

Rage. White hot rage. Rage that fills every inch of me, every bone, every hair, and fiber, and cell. Rage that burns so brightly I feel as if it will consume me. I see his face in my mind, his eye bright and his smile wide. They could have done something, I know they could have.

_Minor setbacks._

They'd had time, years, they could have researched a way. If Plutarch was clever enough to replicate a lifetime of memories couldn't he have figured out a way to stop Peeta from expiring? Couldn't he have saved him? My mind comes to one screeching conclusion. Yes, he could have saved him, but Coin need a martyr, a body, she didn't need Peeta alive. She needed him to live long enough to get reunited with me, then he could die in his own time.

_Minor setbacks._

She had known all along, and she hadn't raised a finger to stop it. Without further thought I throw the door open and Plutarch and Coin both step back, a look of shock on their face.

Before I even know what's happening I'm on top of President Coin, and my hands are around her throat, and only two words escape my lips.

"_Minor setbacks!"_


	29. Chapter 29

In that moment it is as if rage is all I know. With my hands squeezing the life out of Coin I feel nothing but pure, blinding hatred. In all my life I've never hated anyone more than I hate her in this moment, not my mother who watch my sister and I starve, not Seneca and his twisted games, not even President Snow, who wanted to take everything from me that he could. It is Coin, the feeble gray haired women beneath me who struggles to breath, her nails digging in to my arms and her legs smacking against the floor. I want her dead, I want to watch the lights leave her eyes, I want to see her body slum and hear the last exhale her body will ever give. I want it more than anything, I want her death. A wicked grin pulls at the corners of my lips as I stare down into her eyes; I've taken lives before, but this kill will be, by far, the sweetest. This will be a moment I will savor for the rest of my life.

I never get to see that blessed instance where life turns to death, however, because Plutarch Havensbee reacts much more quickly than I would have given him credit for. She's almost gone, I can see it in her eyes, but his arms are around my stomach and he's pulling me into the air. I kick and thrash as hard as I can, screaming at the top of my lungs. "Murderer!" I cry over and over again, begging for someone to hear me. "Murderer!" Coin rolls over onto her side, gasping and coughing. Her hands cover the bruises I can already see forming on her neck as she tries to flood her body with the oxygen I deprived her of. For just a moment I meet Coin's eyes and there is nothing in them but pure horror. She knows what this means. I can unmake her, I can destroy her. With this information I can tear apart the foundations of everything she has fought so long and hard to create. As I have always said, if there was anyone Panem loved more than me it was Peeta.

Fear turns to anger, and quickly anger dissolves away and is replaced by resolve. Her lips press together in a thin line as she stands slowly, her hands out at her sides as she tries to maintain her footing. She's obvious dizzy and weak, and while seeing her in this disheveled state brings me a small amount of joy I feel nothing compared to the rapture I would have experienced if she had died by my hand. Coin clears her throat and pushes her graying hair back into place as I fight against the iron-like grip of Plutarch. She straightens her jacket before glaring at me, her hands in fists at her sides. She's trembling, whether from fear or anger, I can't tell. "I think it is time for Miss Everdeen to have an accident, Plutarch." She says in a voice as cold as ice. My eyes widen as I realize what she is saying. "After all, grief pushes people to do unspeakable-" Coin never finished what she was about to say, because in an instant her lips slacken and her eyes roll into the back of her head, just as her body pitches forward. She hits the ground with an extremely pleasing _thump_, revealing Haymitch standing behind her; shaking his hand with a pained look on his face.

"Damn that woman has a hard head." He curses as he looked at Plutarch, his gray eyes dark and dangerous. "Now, if I were you I'd put the girl down before you join President Coin on the ground." Haymitch hisses, and for a moment Plutarch hesitates.

"Do you realize what you've done, both of you?" He asks, his jowls trembling along with his voice. "You've assaulted the President of Thirteen-"

"Oh shut your fat mouth, Havensbee." Johanna growls, an iron bar gripped tightly in her hands resting against his temple. "Before I show you just how hard a girl from District Seven can swing." Plutarch sputters for a moment before lowering me to the ground. Haymitch darts forward and grabs me, sweeping me behind his back with a careful arm.

"I think it's time we got out of here Mason." Haymitch says in a soft voice, and Johanna lets out a low chuckle that causes all the color to drain from Plutarch's face. .

"Finally!" She breathes before swinging the metal pole with enough force to send Plutarch to the ground. As soon as he is on the ground she drops the bar, kicking away from Coin and Plutarch's unconscious forms. I stare at the bodies for a few seconds, to shocked to even begin to understand what just happened before my eyes. President Coin killed Peeta, maybe not directly but there was no doubt in my mind that she could have done something to stop it from happening. If Wiress and Beetee could hack into the Capitol's broadcasting system surely they could have figured out a way to keep an otherwise healthy man breathing. I had attempted to kill Coin, and if it weren't for Plutarch she would have been dead beneath my hands at this very moment. Coin and Plutarch had been about to kill me, because I could have destroyed the rebellion, I could have destroyed them. Haymitch and Johanna saved me, but how-

"You sure do have a set of lungs on you, kid." Haymitch says with a huff as he grabs onto my arm and pulls me away, moving down a hall that slopes upward towards the surface.

"How did you know-"

"We didn't." Johanna says in a short voice. "I was just telling Haymitch about our… visit today when we heard you screaming. We came as fast as we could." I shake my head for a moment, trying to clear the clutter weeks of silence has left behind. I want to know why he hadn't just come and visited me himself even once in the days since Peeta's death, but the answer is as clear as the bags under his eyes and his sunken cheeks. I wasn't the only person to lose Peeta again, Haymitch lost him too. He hadn't been able to save Peeta not once, but twice, and I don't have to ask him to know how much that must have hurt. I close my eyes for a moment and see Darren, tall and proud and strong. What would it be like if I lost him again? What would it be like to watch him, or Stacy, or Richard, or Evaline, or Bradley, or Lyla, or Grayson fall again? What would it be like if I went through the heart break of not being strong enough to save them twice?

"So, what's the plan, Haymitch?" Johanna asks as we turn a corner, and for a moment I allow myself to wonder just why we haven't seen any Capitol soldiers yet. They're usually crawling the walls of wherever their precious President is. The answer is obvious. President Coin came to see me with only Plutarch because she didn't want anyone else to know, she didn't want there to be a chance of someone over hearing her careless words; she didn't think it was possible that I had some ounce of life left in me that her words would rouse. She thought she had been so clever, but she thought wrong.

"We get out of District Thirteen." I say without provocation. Johanna gives me a startled look, as if she'd completely forgotten I was even there. "We get out and we go to the Capitol. We find Alice and the other tributes, we kill Snow." I say in a voice as hard as stone. "And then we come back here and I send an arrow straight through Coin's heart." I growl, and Johanna just stares at me. For a moment her face is expressionless, but then a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips and she shakes her head, laughing softly.

"I can't wait to hear what that bitch said to you." She says in an amused voice, but I find nothing amusing about what just happened. Somewhere deep down some hideous voice whispers that I should have known. I should have known that Peeta was too good to be real, that there was no way my life could ever be so perfect. I clench my fists at my sides, I should have known he was going to die, I should have known he was going to be taken from me, and I should have known that vicious snake of a woman would have her hands in it. I should have known!

As we wind our way through the labyrinth of District Thirteen my resolve grows. Their Government is no less corrupt than the Capitol. Sure, they don't kill children for fun but something tells me that's only because they don't have enough children to sustain their population let alone watch fight to the death. My breath comes in ragged shallow gulps; all this time I have been telling the people of Panem to take their faith away from the Capitol only to put it in the hands of someone just as bad! I blink rapidly as the realization washes over me, if we want there to be a real and definite change in the world we can't depend on the Capitol or District Thirteen, we have to do it ourselves. Before I know it we're standing in the doorway to Cinna's workshop. As soon as he hears us open the door he stands, turning slowly with eyes half dead. As soon as he seems me, though, he perks up. He takes a few uncertain steps towards me before stopping, his eyes only slightly brighter than they had been before. "Katniss… You're… You're okay?" He asks softly, but there is a look about him as if he's waiting for me to disappear, as if he's seen this before.

"No, I'm not okay." I breathe, and at the sound of my voice his ridged shoulders relax and a small smile touches his face. "We're getting out of here, Cinna. We're getting out now." I hiss and he nods, not even second guessing what I had just said. I look up at him, and though I try to smile it doesn't quite come out. I can always trust Cinna to be there for me, to follow wherever I lead, and while I know he deserves something ten times better than what I am I don't have the strength to send him away.

"What about Finnick and Annie?" Haymitch asks, brushing his graying hair out of his face. "We could use Finnick for this plan of yours-"

"But Annie will slow us down." I turn my eyes towards the dark haired girl, my eye brows narrowed. "I'm not saying we can leave her behind, I'm just saying she's not exactly mentally stable enough for this kind of thing." Johanna finishes. "God knows that they'd do to her if she was left behind, though." For a moment I try to imagine it, I try to imagine the horrors they would put Annie through if the rest of us suddenly disappeared.

"As if you could get Finnick to take a step outside of District Thirteen without her anyways." Cinna says as he takes a firm hold of my hand, and though his touch once given me such comfort and hope I now feel nothing but the pressure of his fingers wrapped around mine. I grip him back, however, because I know it's what he wants me to do and it's nice to have something to do with my hands.

"So is that the plan?" Johanna asks, her eyes wide with excitement. I can tell she's been waiting for this. Johanna isn't the type of girl to sit around and wait for things to happen, I'm quite sure she's been itching for a chance to get out of District Thirteen since she got here. "We find Finnick and Annie and get the hell out of here before they realize-" From a small box on the wall a siren I've never heard before blares, and we all clap our hands over our ears to block out the horrible sound. The halls suddenly swarm with more soldiers than I've ever seen in one place, and though I tense up for a fight they rush right past us as if we aren't even there.

"The president has been attacked." A man with a thick moustache says. "Everyone needs to go back to their quarters and stay there until otherwise instructed." He growls, and I nod quickly. So they've found Coin, but she's obviously not conscious yet, otherwise we would all be at gun point. I send Haymitch a sideways glance; he must have hit her harder than imaginable for her to still be on the ground. We press ourselves against the wall as they all rush by, waiting for a break in the stream of soldiers to make a run for it.

"I need to grab something!" Cinna calls before slipping his hand out of mine and rushing back into his room. I almost call out to him, to tell him it's not important, but he returns only moments later with his work bag under his arm. I should have known he would go back for it; it is his life's work after all. Carefully we inch our way down the hall, and I wonder if my companion's hearts are hammering just as loudly as mine is. When the steady stream of soldiers becomes a light trickle we break into a run towards Finnick and Annie's room, and I thank whatever higher power there is that their quarters are right near where the Hovercrafts are kept.

That excitement is short lived, however, when I realize that none of us know how to fly a Hovercraft. My heart sinks in my chest; we're going to have to make a run for it. I look around at my fellow escapees. These aren't like Johanna's forests, and I doubt Haymitch had been beneath the cover of trees since his own game. Cinna's never been in a wood of any kind and Finnick and Annie aren't used to tree's that don't end in palm fronds. Worry grips my heart, if we have to run they'll catch us, we'll never make it all the way to the Capitol on foot. Not to mention with two powerful groups of people both wanting us dead we don't stand a snow ball's chance in hell of making it out of this alive. Our best option, hell our only option is to steal a Hovercraft and hope that it isn't as hard to fly as it looks.

Just as we reach Finnick and Annie's room I see a copper haired head poking out from the doorway, sea green eyes looking up and down the halls in confusion. When he sees us all rushing towards him, he ducks his head down and lets out an exasperated sigh. "What the hell have you guys done now?" He breathes, and while that would make me laugh at a different time I find I'm not even sure if I remember how to make the sound.

"Change of plans, Fin." Johanna says as she pushes the door open all the way, revealing Annie where she is sitting on the bed watching us, her hands over her ears.

"We're getting out of District Thirteen." Haymitch finishes for her, stepping forward as our unspoken leader. "I'm afraid I've grown rather tired of being sober all the time." He says with a small smirk, and Finnick grins.

"I think a change of scenery could do us all some good." He says as he retreats back into the room and holds his hand out to Annie. "We're going on a trip, Sweetheart." Finnick says, and Annie smiles up at him.

"Are we going home?" There is such hope in her voice I'm very thankful that I don't have to be the one to crush it.

"No, not yet, love. But soon, very soon." He lies as she rests her hand in his and allows him to pull her up. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as she covers her ears once more.

"So, what's the plan?" Finnick yells once we're out in the hall, trying to be heard over the wailing of the Sirens.

"We hijack a hovercraft and get the hell out of here." Cinna says, squeezing my hand where it rests in his. I don't return the motion, but I don't pull away either. Part of me wonders what he will make of my indifference, but it is a quiet and short lived part that is easily snuffed out. A sad smile cover's Finnick's face and he shakes his head.

"I once knew a man who designed and flew Hovercrafts." He says, the look in his eyes tells me he knew the man quite well. Years ago he had opened up to me and told me that President Snow had been whoring him out to whoever could pay his steep prices. "I never forget a secret, I bet I could fly us right out of here." He says confidently, and I feel my own hope returning. Maybe we will be able to make it out of here; maybe there is a chance that we can make it out of this alive!

Just then shouting come from down the hall, loud orders and the stomping of many feet. From the sounds of things I would imagine that Coin just woke up and told the Soldiers who her assailants were, her or Havensbee. "Times up!" Haymitch yells as he turns and tears down the hall, leaving us all behind for just a moment. Without thought we all follow him, rushing as quickly as we can through the sharp and narrow halls. "Hurry!" He cries as he holds open the door to the Hovercraft bay, and we all rush through it one by one.

Once inside Finnick points to an older looking Hovercraft, one off to the side. It looks older than the rest, but I suppose that could be because it is a Capitol model as opposed to one of the newer District Thirteen re-creates. "There!" He yells and we all follow him, watching as he pulls open the back latch and ushers us all inside. The door on the others side of the room opens, and the sound of gunshots meet my ears. The bullets make a high pitches _ping_ sound as they bounce off the bodies of the Hovercrafts, some quite far away and others dangerously close. I am almost inside the belly of the beast, my fear of being shot over riding my fear of Hovercrafts, when there is a burning hot pain in my arm,

I cry out as I fall against Cinna, gripping my arm as blood pools beneath the course fabric of my shirt. As gently as he can he guides me into the hull, seating me down before ripping my shirt off my arm. Once we're all inside Haymitch shut's the door and motions Finnick, who's already in the pilot's seat, to take off. The old Hovercraft shudders and coughs before finally moving with less than half the speed of the new Hovercrafts that zip through the air. Tears blur my vision as I stomp my foot on the ground, my teeth digging into my bottom lip as I grunt out in pain. "The bullet barely grazed you." Cinna says with a sigh of relief. "The cut is long but it's very shallow, you'll be fine." He says as he retrieves a first aid kit from its hiding spot beneath a seat, cleaning my little wound and wrapping it as Cinna flies us out of District Thirteen.

For a while we're all silent, the only sound coming from the hum of the engine and my own grunts and moans. Everyone wants to know what prompted this escape, but I don't quite feel like telling them. My stomach turns into a rock within me, I don't want them to know that Peeta, this Peeta, wasn't the one who had been reaped for the Seventy- Fourth Hunger Games. It is as if I believe that if they know the truth their feelings for Peeta will diminish, their memories of him will be tainted. I bow my head as Cinna ties off the bandage, standing only to seat himself beside me as I stare at my feet.

"So… you gonna tell us what had Coin ready to kill you?" Johanna asks, her elbows rested on her knees. I take a few deep breaths as I cradle my injured arm. It might have been a superficial wound but damn it hurt like hell! I have to tell them, there is no other way. If they are going to help me, if they are going to be willing to follow where I lead, they have to know. They aren't all as faithful as Cinna. I look up slowly, my eyes red but the tears of pain gone.

"President Coin killed Peeta." I begin in a low voice, and they all gasp. I start the story over from the day Peeta died and don't end it until we find ourselves seated where we are now. I tell them everything, leaving out not the smallest detail. I tell it all, I tell it true, and when I am finished I find that I don't feel any better than when I had begun. I still have a horrible weight on my chest and an even heavier weight on my shoulders. For a long time no one says anything as they all fight to understand what I just told them, I can see the conflict raging in their eyes, the same conflict that had torn me apart. Was it worth fighting for the memory of a boy who died four years ago? Was this false Peeta even worth the effort? The answer comes from an unexpected source.

"She'll pay for this." Annie says, her eyes narrowed and her lips scrunched up. "Peeta was a nice boy, she'll pay for this." She repeats, and I can't help but smile.


	30. Chapter 30

_**A/N: So, I was working on this chapter, minding my own business, when I received the most wonderful PM from a reader. Firstly they went about telling me how much they loved my story, which had me bouncing up and down with excitement and giggling like a school girl, and then they told me the most wonderful thing. They enjoyed my story so much they made Fan Art for it. FAN ART! I seriously cannot fathom that someone loved my story that much! So, I just wanted to let you guys look at this lovely piece of work, and tell you that if anyone else has made fanart/fan anything please please PLEASE send it to me and I will put it up for everyone to see! art/Holding-On-To-You-319864628. **_

The twisting in my gut intensifies to the point where I am afraid I'm going to vomit all over the silvery floor of our grounded hovercraft. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the metallic sound, the whisper of blades brushing together and the ripping. A chill moves down my spine, I've never done this before; I've never experienced anything like it. My head feels lighter, lighter than I know it should be, and the sudden smell of ammonia is so strong I nearly cry out. Slowly I open one eye, peaking at Cinna where he flits around me. Seeing my discomfort, or rather my horror, he rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "Honestl, Kat." He says as he separates my hair, and I watch as long brown tendrils falls to the ground. "You'd think I was killing you by the way you're squirming." He chides and I shake my head, Cinna grips me by my chin to stop me from moving.

"I've never had short hair… ever." I hiss, my eyes stinging as he goes about evening out my hair, which is now not even long enough to braid!

"You're idolized for your hair, Katniss." Cinna says as he puts down his scissors, twisting my head this way and that to make sure everything is perfect. "It's long, full, wavy, dark, no one will recognize you with short blonde hair and blue eyes."

I struggle to find something to argue with him about, I grasp for a reason that this isn't necessary. "I hate it." I growl out, anger gripping me once more. I know this isn't a rational thing to be angry about, I know I should thank him for protecting me. After all, he loves my hair more than I ever will.

Cinna stays silent as he slathers my short hair with a thick liquid, one that smells like cleaning supplies. I sit with my arms crossed over my chest and my foot bobbing, and while I'd like to say that I wasn't pouting I know that I definitely am. From the clearing we are landed in Haymitch steps into the hovercraft, dusting off his hands as he grins viciously at my hair. I send him a look that tells him any jest made will end badly. "We've got the whole thing covered." He says as he wipes his brow with the back of his hands. "From the air it'll just look like a thicket. They should be good here for a while."

At the moment we are parked at the base of the mountains that hide the Capitol, the plan already put in motion. As it would seem there are many people in the Capitol who hate President Coin just as much as they hate President Snow, which makes the perfect place for us to weasel our way back into the Capitol. Cinna and I shall be posing as newlyweds, Haymitch being my father and Johanna being my sister. There is no way for us to hide Finnick, he's far too noticeable, so he and Annie will be staying behind here. Should there ever be an emergency he is instructed to take the hovercraft and find safety. Otherwise we'll send a weekly report to him on the mission via a set of communicators we found in the hull of the ship. They're old and vastly out dated, so we hope they won't be traceable. Even if they are, however, we shall be using short coded words to describe our situations and nothing more.

I glance back at Cinna, my heart falling in my chest as I see him once more. I'm not the only one who has to change their appearance. He's dyed his own hair as black as night and has begun growing in his facial hair. Without his signature eyeliner it's amazing just how different he looks. "People see what they want to see." He had told me when he had first begun cutting my hair. "When they look at you without your long brown hair, your grey eyes, and your pin they won't see Katniss Everdeen, they'll see just another girl." I don't know if I really believe that is possible, but I supposed we'll find out soon enough.

I wince as my scalp begins to itch, gripping the arms of my seat to stop myself from raking my nails against my head. I don't want to get that foul smelling goop on my hands. Cinna chuckles softly. "It'll be done in ten minutes." He says as he goes about putting his tools away. Haymitch takes a few steps closer, touching my cheek where my dermals had once been.

"What about these scars?" He asks with narrowed eyes. "Would a Capitol citizen walk around with three scars on her face?" Cinna puts down his things and walks back over towards me, his hand replacing Haymitch's as he turns my face towards him. He chews on his lip as he walks back over to his bag, coming out with a small blue vial and a fine tipped paintbrush. Gently he paints three blue dots on my cheek, one over each of the scars.

"Easy fix." He shrugs as he screws the top back on the bottle. "That is skin dye; it should last for a few weeks."

"Is it going to itch too?" I ask a little more bitterly than I had intended to, but I don't apologize or try to make it seem lighter. Cinna lets out a sigh and I just know he is shaking his head, even if I can't see him.

"No, it shouldn't, but let me know if it does." He's been getting more and more annoyed with my behavior lately, I can tell. I'm shorter with him, I'm shorter with everyone. I don't pull my punches or try to sugar coat anything. I'm full to the brim with anger, how can I pretend to be anything but furious? I don't smile, I don't laugh, I don't say the sarcastic silly things I used to say. I talk when words come to my mind, I don't even make an attempt at filtering them. Something I wonder why Johanna hasn't hit me yet for half the things I say without thinking. I'm way too busy focusing on keeping my own anger inside to worry about the feelings of others.

"So, kid," Haymitch begins as he takes a seat to the left of where my chair is positions in the middle of the floor. "When are those panties of yours going to unbunch themselves?" He asks, and I don't dignify him with an answer. I simply stare ahead, my face fitted into a scowl. He leans forward on his knees, his eyes dark and his face stern. "You've been treating everyone like shit, and it won't be long before some gets mad."

"Will it be you?" I ask bitingly, the itch has begun to sting, and it only adds kerosene to the fire of my frustration. "Will you get mad?" Haymitch shakes his head and laughs.

"I think you're mad enough for the both of us." He watches as Cinna steps into the front cabin to stash his supplies, before turning back to face me. "It'll be him." He whispers. "He won't stick around forever, Katniss. He won't let you treat him like this for the rest of your lives." I glare at Haymitch.

"You don't know what you're talking about." I whisper back furiously. "I'm not-"

"Bullshit." He interrupts me. "You've been treating the lot of us like pawns in your revenge plan, and I hate to break it to you, Sweetheart, but that's not how this thing goes. We aren't on a search and destroy mission, and you need to take a good deep breath and evaluate yourself." I can't help it; I let out a stifled laugh.

"I'm the one who needs to evaluate myself?" I ask, a cruel smile on my face. "You're just as bad as I am, and you know it." Haymitch shakes his head.

"I don't want you to be like me, kid." He breathes, deflating my anger ever so slightly. "I'm angry, yeah. I'm getting old, I'm alone, and neither of those things are going to change." He looks up at me, but rather than the sadness I had expected to be in his eyes they are hard and emotionless. "You think I want you to end up like this too?"

Instead of answering him I look at the floor, thankful for Cinna's return to us. How could I respond to that? How can I tell him that while I would do anything to not end up like him I can't do anything to stop it? If changing the way I feel was so simple I would have done it by now. I would have forced myself to be happy, and pushed away all this torment raging inside of me. Everything would be easier if I could just let go of the darkness in my own mind, but every time I try to I hear Coin's words ringing in my ear. Minor Setbacks. Even now my fingers grip the sides of my chair, my body shaking with unreleased fury.

"C'mon. Time to rinse your hair, Kat." Cinna says as he guides me over to the Hovercraft's tiny sink. He fastened a chair for me in front of it and draped a towel over the lip of the sink. I kneel down onto the chair and flip my hair into the sink, Cinna hesitated, like he's about to correct me, but doesn't. Turning on the water he begins rubbing his hands through my hair, and I watch as the milky water runs down into the drain. To avoid the dye getting in my eyes I close them and wait for Cinna to be finished with my hair, and when he does he turns off the water and wraps the towel that had been draped over the sink around me hair.

"There, now no one will recognize you." He says as he washes his own hands with a special liquid that stop the dye from staining his skin.

"And what if they do?" I ask as I rub the towel over my hair, removing all the access water. Cinna thinks for a moment, staring out the window of the hovercraft and into the field beyond.

"Then you laugh and say you only wish you could look like Katniss Everdeen." He nods confidently. "Women in the Capitol strive to look like you, so just act like you're one of them." I think for a moment before putting down the towel, a million more questions raging in my mind. Then again, I'm sure Cinna knows more about Capitol women than I ever will, having been raised around them and all. I take a deep breath and shove my questions aside, Cinna has never mislead me, never given me a reason not to trust him so I suppose there's no real reason to doubt him.

Then again, when my life is on the line I guess that is as good a reason as any to give anything a second thought.

Haymitch looks me up and down from his seat, his arms resting over the backs of the chairs to his left and right. "You look like an entirely different person." He says with a sad shake of his head. "I hate to say it, but you look like one of them." My teeth grind together at the very thought.

"Well, that would be the point." I snap back as I walk towards the entrance of the ship, stepping out into the crisp autumn air. It's getting colder and colder as the weeks go by, and I can't wait for the first snow. It will be even easier to hide within the streets of the Capitol with half my face obscured by scarves and hats, maybe then at least I can feel a little less like I'm walking into my own death trap.

When the sound of laughter reaches my ears I turn my head to find Finnick with Annie draped over his shoulder, spinning her around and around in circles. She has her arms out in the air, her face upward as if she's imagining herself flying. To see them so happy, so carefree, causes my stomach to knot, the hot tension of jealousy winding me as tight as a bow string. "Aren't they just precious?" Johanna says as she crosses her arms over her chest. When I turn to look at her I see that Cinna has dyed her hair to match mine, cutting it in a similar style as well. I have to admit, though, it looks much better on her. With her small features and pale complexion she looks like a little china doll, I just look ridiculous. "Makes me sick." She says with a smirk.

"Tell me about it." Unbeknownst to us, Annie shimmies herself down from Finnick's arms and rushes away, squealing as he gives chase. My mouth fills with a sour taste and I find I have to turn away from the adorable scene before I throw up all over my only pair of shoes. I don't want to look at them; I don't want to think about them. How can I watch them without thinking of what it had been when Peeta was alive? The knot in my stomach turns into a thick rock that sinks all the way down to my toes. I know they are my friends and I should be happy that they are happy, but I just can't bring myself to be anything more than petty. I don't want to be happy for them, but I'm not entirely sure I want to be happy either.

"So when we get to the Capitol what do you think we're going to find?" She asks in a hushed voice, her eyes downcast.

"Who knows?" I follow her eyes to the ground, trying to find what she's staring at but there is nothing there of remote interest, maybe she can see something I can't. "Hopefully not a mob." Johanna lets out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, but I really wouldn't be surprised." She says, shaking her head. "They're an insane bunch; they do watch kids murder each other for fun, after all." I nod in agreement. What would it be like to walk the streets of the Capitol and find people baying for my blood instead of my photograph? As far as they know I defected from the Capitol, I betrayed them; I turned my back and ran in the other direction as fast as I could. I don't know if they'll ever be able to forgive such an injustice. Were I in their place I know I never would.

I take a deep breath as I finger my now short hair, still damp from the rinse. How long will it take to get used to the feeling of locks that slide so quickly from my fingers? How long will it be before I hardly even notice how light my head feels every time I turn it? My hair, which had once hung around me like a protective curtain, now lies on the floor of the hovercraft. It will take years for the hair that it now at my jaw to reach my waist, where it once had been. Not to mention I will have to cut it short once more just to get this awful blonde color out. I wonder if it would simply be easier to have Cinna dye back to its natural color once this is over.

Almost against my will I shake my head, I have much more pressing matters to think of than how to fix this atrocity atop my head.

Johanna fits her hands into her pockets and rocks back on her heels, her eyes sweeping over the forest before her. I know what she's thinking; it's very similar to what I'm thinking. Though we grew miles and miles and miles from each other Johanna and I both learned to live between the trees, and I just know she shares the same feeling of peace under their canopy that I do. The mountains in the distance, however, shake the peace they give me until there is nothing left. "Do you think this plan will really work?" Johanna asks; her eyes down cast.

"No." I say honestly, as I have lost my ability to care enough about a person's feelings to bother lying to them. "I think we're all going to end up dead in the city streets." I turn to look at her. "I just hope I at least get the chance to kill Snow before they catch us." Johanna lets out a short strangled laugh.

"There will be quite a line of people all waiting for the chance to be the one who squeezes the trigger." I think back to my bow, hidden in a tree like the ones around me but too far away for me to ever find again. I doubt it would be any use to me even if I found it; chances are the bombing of Twelve reduced all my beloved weapons to cinders. There is a horrible pain in my heart as I imagine the wood cracking and the strings letting loose, what little I had left of my father probably died with the District. I look away from Johanna, not wanting her to know that I feel the loss of my bows just as sharply as the loss of every person in Twelve.

"Well, they're all going to have to beat me to him." I say softly, looking down at my feet as Haymitch comes back into view. In the short time I've been outside with Johanna Cinna has sheered Haymitch until nothing but a short bit of bleached hair is showing. Sober and clean the people of the Capitol will never realize he is the infamous mentor of District Twelve.

"Our ride should be here any moment." Haymitch says as he comes to stand beside us, his arms crossed over his chest. "You girls ready?" Johanna and I both look at each other for a second before nodding our heads. I don't think I'll ever really be ready to enter the Capitol, but it isn't as if I have another plan of action. This is the best we have to go on, and I'm not going to risk ruining it by having jitters. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. "Good." He says as Cinna comes out to meet us and Finnick and Annie come in from the field.

"Are you sure you can trust this friend of yours?" Finnick asks Cinna with a skeptical look on his face, Annie clinging to his back. He bounces her a bit higher on his hips, his hands holding onto her legs.

Cinna takes a moment to smirk before nodding. "Oh yes, I've known her for many years. I think I have a very good understanding of her character." For a moment I feel something stir within me, something ugly and nasty and very _very_ green_. Her?_ "In the given situation there is no one I trust more." I feel a knot form in my stomach once more and I force myself to look away from Cinna. So, this friend of his on the inside is a her? I know I have no reason to feel resentment, no reason to question Cinna and honestly no right to, but I can't help it.

As we all stand about talking a Hovercraft appears above us, having turned off its camouflage. We all jump as our heads whip towards the sky, each of us judging whether or not we should run for cover. Even though we are anticipating the arrival of our ticket to the Capitol by the tenseness of everybody around me I know we all have the same instinctual reaction to a Hovercraft with the Capitol's seal. Regardless, we all hold our ground, bunching a little tighter together as the Hovercraft lands with barely an audible sound. We all wait, holding our breaths, as the back door opens and a woman steps out, her copper skin practically glowing in the sunlight and her aquamarine hair hanging around her waist.

"So, everybody ready?" Portia asks with a smile, and I find that I can't help but smile too.

_**A/N: Oh! I almost forgot! I'm thinking of making a Tumblr Page for the story, a place where I will post Deleted Scenes, sneak peeks, submitted Fanart, as well as ask-the-author, and little tidbits on side projects and future fics. Is that something worth doing? Let me know in your review! **_


	31. Chapter 31

_**A/N: Hey everyone! Here's chapter Thirty-one! Before you read I'd really like it if you just took two seconds to check out the blog I created for this fic. The URL is holding-ontoyou. So to find it you'll have to go to holding-ontoyou . tumblr . com (without the spaces, of course) Anyway, I'd love for all of you to follow, if you can! I can't wait to get all your questions and post things for you to read and look at! Just let me know if there is anything specific you'd like me to post or anything of yours you'd like me to put up! Anyway, enjoy the chapter! **_

"I've arranged for you to stay in the apartments next to mine." Portia says softly as the Hovercraft touches down within the walls of the Capitol, hidden behind a mass of buildings and towers of some sort. "Most of the people in the building are revolutionaries, but that doesn't mean they all are so be careful with what you do and what you say." She warns us as she turns around in the pilot's seat, looking us all over carefully. A small crease forms between her eyebrows as she looks at us, her lips turned down at the corners. "I brought some clothes for each of you; they're hidden in that closet there." She says, pointing to the left side of the craft. "You better change quickly; there is no way you wouldn't be noticed in what you're wearing now." Without hesitation Cinna stands and moves to the closet, opening it quickly and pulling out the first outfit.

"This one is definitely for Johanna." He says with a smirk, and I nearly gag as I look at the overly-pink ensemble. Johanna looks just about as excited as I am. Still, she stands bravely and grabs onto the garment bag, turning away from everyone before stripping down into her skimmies to change. I should be surprised, but then again I've seen the girl naked in an elevator. "And this one is for Haymitch." Cinna holds out a lime green suit that looks almost like toxic waste. I almost reprimand Portia and Cinna's choices before I remember they are both revered stylists of the Capitol, and if there is anyone who can make us fit in it's them. Haymitch huffs as he stands and grabs at the suit, not even bothering to turn away before removing his District Thirteen clothes.

"Katniss?" He asks, almost like a question, as he holds out a bright purple outfit I'm sure I've seen before. Still, I suppose not everyone in the Capitol has their own person stylist to make their clothes, there has to be some kind of store where you can simply by the crazy things they wear. With much hesitation I stand and take the package. Well, at least it isn't bright pink. Like Johanna I too turn away before stripping down, trying to find the best way to enter the clothes. The bottom looks too thin to fit over my shoulders, but the top if far too small to try and shimmy over my hips. For a moment I just stand there, in my unmentionables, and stare at the work, looking for a zipper, or a button, or something! "Here, let me help you." Cinna whispers as he takes the… thing from me, twisting and turning it until there is an opening big enough for me.

Like a million times before his hands guide me through the steps of putting on the clothes; small brushes against my arms, lingering fingers on the back of my neck, and though this mundane activity used to set my heart racing it now only gives me Goosebumps. Still, it feels good to be touched at all. When at last the clothes are secured around me Cinna works his magic once more and closes the garment, stepping back to look at me with what was almost like a frown. "There, you'll fit in just fine." At his words I turn towards the reflective side of the mirror, my stomach falling down into the heels of my feet as I look at myself.

I really do look like one of them, from my strange short haircut to my triangular shoulder pads and pointy hips. I run my hands over the fabric as Cinna hands me a pair of white gloves. I look so ridiculous, so stupid, so _Capitol_, and I really can't think of anything I'd rather not be.

"You look like someone threw up on you." Johanna says and I turn around, I follow her eye's to find Haymitch looking very uncomfortable, tugging his bright green suit this way and that, trying to make it better. The jacket is too short, the sleeves are too long, and the pants are too wide, but I suppose all of those things were done on purpose. "Yeah well you look…" Haymitch thinks for a moment, his face turning slightly pink. "Well, I can't think of a more insulting term than Capitol." I almost smile, but I wipe it off my face. Both Cinna and Portia are Capitol, will they know that Haymitch isn't trying to insult them? Do they know the difference between themselves and the other people of the Capitol? I suppose they do because neither of them so muach as bats an eyelash at Haymitch's insult.

"Then it's working." Portia claims as she stands from her seat and pulls her long hair over her shoulder. "Cinna, if you will take Katniss I will take Johanna. They can't go out without their faces on." Cinna nods and grabs for his work bag, motioning for me to sit. I obey uneasily, remembering what it was like the first time I had come to the Capitol, when my crew had plucked me like a chicken before sending me to Cinna. My heart beats a little harder at the memory, but not by much.

"I know you hate this." Cinna says as he pulls out his palette. "But is has to be done." He looks at me sympathetically, and I try not to return his gaze with a grimace, I'm not quite sure if I succeeded.

"Just make it quick." I say as I close my eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of his brushes on my skin once more, knowing that this time he isn't trying to make me look like a better version of myself, he's trying to make me look like one of them. Cinna works without another word, painting things here, shading things there. At one point I feel him glue something to my eyelids, but I'd almost rather not see it. After what feels like ages he stands and grabs me by my hands, pulling me up to join him. When I open my eyes, which I find harder than it usually is, I stare at myself in the mirror once more, disgust as plain as day on my face.

I look like a doll, plastic and fake. My lips and cheeks are to pink with the rest of my face to pale. My eyes are done up with intricate swirls and lines ending in long purple feather eyelashes that make it hard to open my eyes back up when I blink. Still, I suppose I'll get used to them, I'll get used to all of this if it only means a chance at avenging Peeta. I look to Johanna and Haymitch, my stomach tying itself in knots. We all look like one of them, and though that was the point I can't help but feel so utterly repulsed. If you placed us in the crowed during the Tribute's Parade we would fit in just fine, we would look like just another family of citizens who love watching children fight to the death. We look no different. The thought nearly makes me sick.

"Ready to go?" Portia asks as she stands at the back of the hovercraft near the door, waiting for the signal that will send us all out into an unfamiliar word most of us have only caught glimpses of. I nod my head and grab onto Cinna's hand. We're supposed to be a newly-wedded couple; we might as well start acting like it now. With my feet already cramping in the ridiculous heels Cinna set before me moments ago I step forward, trying to smile as Portia lowers the door.

The alleyway we're in smells of vomit and piss, and I'm more than certain that we must be near to one of the saloons Cinna has told me about on occasion. I cover my nose as Portia directs me towards a door in the wall closest to us, motioning me though it as it swings inward. For a moment I am hesitant, but Cinna's strong hand in mine reminds me that there is nothing to be afraid of. Nothing but a few thousand armed and trained Peacekeepers, all looking for me and my companions. Nothing but a city of people who would like to tear us apart, given the chance. Nothing but a madman who calls himself the President and smells of roses and blood. There is nothing to fear. Nothing at all.

I sit on my new bed and look out the window across the room from me. It's not as comfortable as the bed I had slept on as a Tribute, but it beats the hell out of my cot in District Thirteen. The world outside the window is beginning to dim, and I know Cinna will be back soon, but there is so much I have to think about by myself, so much I have to reflect inward on to understand. What am I really doing here? Is this really just a revenge plot? I shake my head; Panem would be a much better place without Snow, and people like him, running it. I frown, is that really my motive? I want to make someone pay for what happened to Peeta, whether it's Snow or Coin or the both of them! I feel tears prick my eyes, someone has to pay, and for once I don't want it to be me.

The door slides open just as I touch my chin to my chest, tears slipping down my cheeks. I'm not sad, I'm angry. So very very angry. I'm angry about everything, I'm angry at everyone! I wrap my arms around myself as the door slides shut. I've never been so angry in all my life, not even when it had been Prim's name pulled out of the bowl. It feeds everything I am, every breath and word and look. It has taught me how to live again, how to move around and act like I feel something inside, something other than hatred, but I don't. I don't! There's nothing inside of me anymore! Nothing! I am a hollow shell, a bowl someone has poured hatred into, but I don't even know exactly where the blame lands. Does it belong to Plutarch who created the Mutt that looked and moved and acted so like Peeta, or President Coin who didn't try to save him? Should it go to President Snow and his sick Hunger Games or maybe even the long dead Cato, whose sword it was that cut Peeta open in the first place?

Cinna drops to his knees in front of me, his hands planted on either side of me on the mattress. In that moment, when he looks straight into my eyes while on his knees, I remember just how small I am in comparison to him, to any normal adult. Such a small vessel for so much fury. He makes soft soothing sounds as he brushed my hair out of my face, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. My initial reaction is to swat away his hands; to yell at him to leave and say hateful things when he won't, but I know what a horrible idea that is. No matter which way I look to place the blame it does not land on Cinna. "It's alright, love. Everything's going to be fine." He says as he encases my face with his hands, pressing his lips to my forehead.

Once more I feel the goose bumps come to life on my arms, and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It's nothing in comparison to what I had once felt at his touch, but it is something. It is sweeter than rage, and so much kinder. I open my eyes slowly, reaching a hand up to pull the stupid fake eyelashes off of me. I don't want to be one of them for this, I don't want to look like one of them when I open my arms and ask him to take me, just as I have so many times before.

Cinna looks at me in confusion for a moment, but I don't allow him to look like that for long. Without another thought I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his neck as I press my lips to him. He jumps slightly, his arms in the air around me, unsure of what to do in this situation. Finally his arms settle around me, pulling me closer, holding me tighter, his lips moving against mine with a sort of starving passion. When I lean back against the bed he follows, lying on top of me with his weight on his elbows and his hands in my hair. I grip him tightly as I move my lips against his, trying to find what it had once been that coursed through my when we kissed. It's not there, but there is a hint of it, a whisper of what remains of my feelings for him. Perhaps it is simply muscle memory, as if my body remembers his touch better than I do.

I nip at his lips, dragging the tip of my tongue across his bottom lip before he brings his to meet mine. Our tongues dance together in the space where our lips meet, and Cinna lets out a short groan into my mouth, his hips pressing into mine. I can't help but grin as I feel him harden. With careful hands I find his belt buckle and move about undoing it, but as soon as my hands touch it Cinna pulls away, his eyes wide with confusion. "Katniss-"

"Shh." I whisper, pressing my lips to his once more before going back to his buckle. He releases his hands from my hair and pushes me back onto the bed.

"Katniss, stop." He says; his voice tight as a bow string as his self-control battles with his desire. I can see the war in his eyes, the need to be with me raging against the confusion. I try to kiss him once more, but he holds me down. "I said stop!" He barks, and I shrink back into the bed. There is anger in his eyes, and I find I don't want to meet them. "What are you doing?" I suddenly find myself very embarrassed. He's never turned me away before, never stopped me. The embarrassment is short lived, however, and replaced quickly with frustration.

"What do you think?" I ask harshly, and Cinna gets off of me, standing with his back to me and his hands in my hair.

"But why?" He begins pacing in a small circle, and I want nothing more than to grab him and pull him back onto the bed. Not out of desire but out of annoyance, I hate when he paces. "Why now? Why here? Why all of a sudden?" He shakes his head, and I know he's trying to find a formula for this, a pattern, a way to make sense of it.

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Cinna hisses; and I narrow my eyes. I can count on one hand how many times Cinna has ever spoken to me like this, and I don't like it. Cinna is supposed to comfort me; he's supposed to be with me, he's supposed to make the world seem right when everything is wrong!

"Because I want to feel something, Cinna." I growl, unafraid of honestly. "I want to feel something that isn't bitter." He laughs, but it is more like a cackle. He turns to look at me, his eyes almost as dark as his hair.

"You want to feel something?" He repeats, and I feel the anger well inside of me once more. "So is that what I am to you now? I tool? A way to vent?" He runs his hands over what is left of his hair, his jaw clenched and his eyes tight. "You know, it was one thing when you'd come to me with desire and something like love in your eyes, but this is completely different, Katniss. This is wrong." I stand, taking a few steps towards him.

"How? What is so different?" I ask, shaking my head. "You've never said no to me before, not even when I woke up screaming Peeta's name. So why now?"

"Because you're not doing this because you want to!" He throws his arms in the air. "You're trying to use this as a distraction!"

"And so what if I am, what does it matter?" For a moment, just a moment, Cinna looks as if I've slapped him. He closes his lips tight, looking down at the floor as he tries to straighten his thoughts. When he looks back up at me his face is clear of emotion, a white blank page.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore, Kat." He says honestly, and I feel myself deflate as another emotion almost like anger weasels its way into my heart. Fear.

"What?" Cinna rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes before answering.

"I've been holding on to you for years, Katniss." He whispers, just barely loud enough for me to hear. "Before we went to District Thirteen, before all of that, you always promised you were trying to love me, and that was enough. That was always enough, but now…" He looks away from me. "I'm a man, Kat. Not a toy, not a tool." He looks down at his feet, like he always does when he's fighting off tears. "You're never going to love me; I suppose I've always known that. It was just easier to ignore the truth when you almost did." He looks out the window. "Maybe… maybe it's time I let you go." I watch; too shocked to speak as he makes his way towards the door. Like so many times before, like every time, I don't have the words to make him stay.

I have no more promises, no more pleas, nothing that can convince him or change his mind. I look down at my lap, waiting for the tears to come as he opens the door and closes it behind him. I close my eyes as Haymitch's words echo in my mind as loud and clear as if he had just said them to me.

"_It'll be him." He had whispered. "He won't stick around forever, Katniss. He won't let you treat him like this for the rest of your lives."_


	32. Chapter 32

It's amazing how something can change so drastically so quickly, how a voice that had once calmed and soothed could suddenly bring forth pain, how words that had once been spoken so simply now bred only discontent. There once was a time when Cinna and I could sit in a comfortable silence for hours simply enjoying one another's company, but now his presence sets me on edge, and his silence unnerves me. When we sit in the same room without speaking, without so much as looking at each other, I suddenly become so very conscious of everything that I am, and everything that I have been.

I know this, whatever this is, is my fault. I've shut Cinna out, pushed him away, treated him like trash, and yet still expected him to stand by me, to have my side no matter what. I guess it just never crossed my mind that Cinna had his own side. He'd been on mine for so long I just forgot that we could have different ones. I frown down into my oatmeal, for years we've been like one entity; with the same thoughts and feelings. Now I can't help but wonder how much of that was Cinna putting forth the effort for me, how much of his own thoughts did he ever really show? I swirl the mush around in my bowl, trying to find a logical explanation to all the thoughts and questions running about my mind, but no matter which way I try to throwthe blame it keeps being blown back in my face, as if I needed yet another thing to blame myself for.

We've been in the Capitol for about a week now, and I'm already getting antsy. We haven't heard anything about where they might be keeping the remaining Victors from our underground network, and with every day that passes I'm reminded of my incompetence. I had forgotten about Alice, I really had. I had run off to District Thirteen without a second thought, and I hadn't even bothered remembering her until her mother had her hands knotted in my shirt. I pick up a spoonful of the glop and drop it back into the bowl, my hand cradling my cheek as my elbow rests on the table.

I allow my spoon to fall against the bowl as I cross my arms on the table, hiding my face away in the darkness they created. I was supposed to protect her, I was supposed to keep her safe and I couldn't even succeed in that. I should have done more, I should have cared more. I lick my lips and take a deep breath, guilt won't help me save her now, but it sure as hell will stop me from making a similar mistake again. "Falling asleep in your porridge, sweetheart?" Haymitch mutters as he drops himself into the seat across from me. I look up slowly, still unnerved by the unnatural blonde of his hair. It doesn't shock me as much as my own reflection does, however. I still jump when I see myself, sometimes, or when I try to run my fingers through my hair only to find that it's not there anymore. It's an unsettling thing; to lose something you've had all your life. My thoughts go back to District Twelve, and I hide my face once more. "C'mon, kid, slow down. It's too early for you to be chatting like this." Haymitch drawls sarcastically, and I turn my face to the side to look at him.

He looks tired but healthier than I've ever seen him before. He's been sober for months now, and he's even beginning to put on some weight. When he places his cup of coffee down on the table I see his hand hesitate for a moment, as if he's about to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a flask of white liquor to flavor his coffee. He hardly moves at all before he realizes that he doesn't have the flask, he hasn't had it in a long time. Old habits die hard, if they die at all.

"So, what's the plan today?" I ask as I sit straight, pushing my light hair out of my face. Haymitch takes a sip of his coffee.

"Why don't you tell me?" He responds, and my hands curl into fists. "This is your revenge mission, isn't it?" He glowers into his coffee, and I swallow the lump in my throat. It's so easy for me to get angry, so easy for me to snap back at him, so easy for me to get defensive for no reason.

"We're here to save Alice." I grunt back, and Haymitch gives me a skeptical look.

"Oh really?" He asks with a mocking air to his voice. "And a certain vendetta has nothing to do with our little trip? This is only reconnaissance, not an assassination attempt?" I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to will my temper down.

"We'll do what we have to do." I respond with tight lips, holding back all the things I want to say, all the biting remarks that will only make matters worse. Haymitch hums and spoons some sugar into his coffee instead of liquor, swirling the small silver spoon around the cup.

"So if you get the chance to kill Snow it will be with remorse and mercy?" Haymitch asks, and I feel chills move through me at the mere thought. "You won't drag it out? Won't relish in his screams?" The scene unfurls in my mind with a shiver that moves down my spine. I imagine him writhing beneath my knife, and a twisted smile comes to my lips before I can cover it. I would love to make that snake of a man squirm, I would love to hear him beg, nothing in the world would give me such joy.

I wait for Haymitch to say something about my expression, to shake his head and leave, but nothing happens. After a moment I look up, my eyes locking with his, and I'm surprised by what I find there. It's not fear in his eyes, but something close to it. "I'm worried about you, kid." He says in a hushed voice, his hands flat on the table. "You're… You shouldn't-"

"Be so excited to see a man die." Cinna's voice calls out from where he's standing against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. I feel my cheeks turn red as I look down at the table, my lips sewn shut.

"It's not healthy." Haymitch sighs. "I've seen that look before, Katniss. On careers-" The word lights a fire within me and I stand quickly, knocking back my chair in my haste. Who the hell are they to judge me? Who the hell do they think they are?

"What is this?" I growl, looking between the two of them. "Some kind of intervention?"

"Well, you kinda need one." Cinna says as he saunters into the room, moving to stand by Haymitch who rose to stand as well. I look at the two of them, so they've joined forces have they? I curl my hands into fists at my side, my arms shaking violently. "You're sick, Katinss. You've let this hatred consume you-"

"You're acting like a total bitch." Haymitch says tactlessly. "And you're going to get everyone killing if you try to just run in their guns blazing and temper flying.

"I'm leaving before I say something you're really going to regret." I hiss as I turn away, but Cinna is faster than I thought he would be, and before I can even get to the door he's blocking it.

"You can't walk away from this, Katniss." He says, but I duck under his arm. "Katniss!"

"I thought you were giving up on me, Cinna." I yell over my shoulder, not bothering to be quiet. "I thought you were done holding on to me, you sure do have a funny way of letting me go." I feel his hand on my arm, pulling me towards him, but without a second thought I draw back my fist and slam it into his jaw. His hand releases my arm as he stumbles back, holding onto his jaw and cursing. "Don't touch me!" I snarl, as Haymitch rushes forward to help him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Kid?" Haymitch hisses, but I'm out the door before either of them can stop me.

They act like their so perfect, like their problems are so much more mild than mine. They weren't there the day in the Arena when Peeta died, they weren't holding the medicine that could have saved him, they weren't too late. Tears stream my eyes as I rush down the stairway of the apartment. They don't know what it was like, living after that. They didn't struggle with black holes that threatened to suck them in; they didn't have to learn how to live again. Haymitch may know what it was like to survive the Hunger Games but he will never know what it is like to have to lose the person you love twice! Two times I watched him die; two times I held his hand. Maybe the first time I didn't see the lights leave his eyes but I did when I lost him in District Thirteen. He'll never know what it's like to feel so betrayed by everyone around you, he'll never know, so how the hell could he understand?

I reach the bottom of the stairs and start to the door, but a sharp pain in my neck sends me to the floor. As darkness begins to settle around my eyes I hear the sharp sound of footsteps.

"Katniss." A voice whispers, soft and gentle and warm. I've heard the voice before, but at the moment I can't place who the voice belongs to, I can't remember the face that goes along with it. "Katniss wake up, it's almost meal time." Small hands grab my arms and shake me gently, trying to pull me from my warm fuzzy cloud, but I don't want to leave. It's so pleasant here, so deliciously sweet. I smile, wondering what this heaven is that I've found. All too quickly, though, the pleasure is replaced with pain. Everything sweet about the world around me dissolves, and in an instant I am wracked with pain.

"Take a step back, kid." Another voice says, this one thick and harsh. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it's as if the lining of my esophagus has been replaced with sand paper. "C'mon, girl on fire, you've been asleep long enough." The small hands are replaced by one large one, and I am drawn into a sitting position. My head falls back as it begins to pound, and I try desperately to open my eyes.

"Brutus?" I rasp out, and the man chuckles.

"So you are in there somewhere." He says as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to my feet. My knees quiver as my stomach rolls, and I'm too miserable to even question what's wrong with me. "I was hoping I'd never see you here, kid." He murmurs, and I finally open my eyes. The lights are too bright, and as I raise my hand to shade it out I realize that I have a long needle sticking out of the back of my hand. I shake my head furiously, panic gripping my head.

"Easy there, Katniss. Easy." Brutus says as he struggles to hold me. "Give me a hand here!" He barks, and small hands grip mine, restraining me with gentle pressure. I watch the tiny white things as one thumb covers where the needle entered my skin and the other hand slowly draws out the needle. Once the needle is gone she still holds her thumb there for a minute to hold the bleeding at bay. I trace the small hands upward to slender arms and sunken shoulders. Light brown hair causes me to gasp and before I know it soft blue eyes nearly rip all the air from my lungs.

"Alice." I moan, and the girl gives me a small smile, the mad sort of smile that I'd almost forgotten.

"I knew you'd find a way to get me, Katniss." Alice murmurs, wrapping a white linen bandage around my hand. "I knew you would come get me."

"She's not here to get you, Ali. She's been captured to." Brutus said, but Alice shakes her head.

"No, Katniss is here to save me. She probably has a thousand thousand people outside but first she had to sneak in to make sure that I was still alright. If I hadn't been I'm sure she would have killed every Peace Keeper-"

"Be quiet!" Brutus hisses, and Alice drops the rest of the bandage and covers her mouth with both of her hands, a movement she and Brutus have obviously practiced. "You can't say things like that, Alice. Remember?"

"Oh yeah." She hums, picking up the bandage once more. She ties it off skillfully, and I wonder if first aid was another skill she picked up in the arena. "So are you here to rescue me, Katniss? Are you?" Her wide doe eyes nearly make my cry, and I taste the bitterness of bile in the back of my throat.

"Give the girl some time, Ali." Brutus commands as he sits me back down on my bed. "She's still got those tranquilizers running through her. Don't you remember what it was like?" Alice shivers dramatically.

"I felt like I was full to the very top with worms." She hisses, and I blink rapidly, trying to understand the situation I now find myself in. It all happened so fast. One moment I was full of fury, rushing out of the apartment to get some air and the next I'm waking up here, bound by needles and surrounded by white. I look around slowly, my eyes surveying my surroundings. We're in a wide white room with a tall ceiling and large bright lights. People are meandering around, some talking to their fellow victors and some huddled and talking to themselves.

"This is where they're keeping the Victors." I say breathlessly, and Brutus nods.

"Nothing escapes you." He sits himself on the bed across from mine, and I now see that there are rows and rows of them, all the same small militaristic cot. "We've been here for months."

"We have chicken on Wednesdays." Alice adds in, as if that information is very important. "That's how we tell what day it is." She adds in an excited whisper. I give her a small smile and without another word she drops herself onto the floor next to my feet, her head rested in my lap. Brutus gives her a sympathetic sort of look, but I stare at him. My head still feels as if it's full of cotton but things are starting to get sharper, and I'm beginning to remember everything.

Back in District Thirteen we had always talked about what we imagined this place would be. Some thought the Victors would be given every comfort, as to not enrage the people of the Capitol, but others argued that they were probably kept in squalor, tortured so that information might be found. "Do they… Do they hurt you?" I ask, fear coursing through me as I imagine Alice strapped to a table with horrible men circled around her, and Alice immediately covers her ears. Brutus frowns and scratches his stump with his free hand.

"Well… every once in a while they will take someone." He says in hardly more than a whisper, his eyes searching the room for ears that might betray him. "It's usually one every couple weeks, and once they're taken they don't come back." He motions for Alice to uncover her hands, that it's safe once more. Once her hands are down she rests her head in my lap once more, and I stroke her hair without thought, just as I had done for Prim.

The thought of Prim causes me to shiver. I wonder what is happening back in District Thirteen, with my mother and the rest of them we left behind. I can't help but feel sorry for leaving her behind, but it wasn't as if I was afraid of Coin hurting her, or using her against me. Prim was too good, and too useful to them. Why would they throw away one of their healers when they had so few of them. Other than my mother and Prim there was probably only one other as competent as they were. Still, guilt stabs through me but this is no place for Prim, if I had brought her with me she would be in constant danger. I shake my head, bringing myself back into the situation of the present. "When was the last time they took someone?" I ask, and once more Brutus frowns.

"Three weeks ago." He says, instantly my eyes find the only door in the room. Someone could come through that door and take another person any moment. That person could easily be Brutus, or Alice, or even me. Still, the more I look at the door the more it doesn't move. "They took Gloss last time." I startle slightly, looking back at Brutus. I can't imagine Gloss being gone, or even being taken. No matter how much of a Victor he had been he was from District One, the Capitol's lapdog, why would the Capitol want to hurt one of their own?

"I'm going to get everyone out of here." I whisper, but Brutus lets out a small chuckle.

"You think we haven't tried that before?" His voice is so low I can hardly hear him, but I believe that is the point. "We've tried to break out, we've tried to get help, but they have this place locked down tight. It's like being in the Arena, there's no way in, and there's no way out, not without their say so." I look down at Alice, resting my hand on her head. I have to get her out of here; I can't bear the thought of her being taken. I have to get her out of here. I have to. I've let her down more times than I want to admit, and I can't let her down now too.

I just can't.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Okay guys, I believe a little explanation is due here. As some of you, the ones who have looked at my blog, may or may not know, my boyfriend of 4 years (with whom I had started going engagement-ring shopping this past summer) told me that not only had he decided was he not ready to be in a committed relationship (which I think is kind of like signing up for college classes and then realizing you don't have a High School Diploma, but I digress.) but he also had been lying to me for months, only pretending to still be in love with me. I was… am very torn up about it, as I'm sure you can understand, and in no fit mood to write. If I had written anything in that dark place I was in I probably would have killed all the characters and ended it. I'm getting better, slowly but surely. I'm not okay, not by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm getting there, I promise. Anyway, I thank you for your sympathy and for your patients. Please review and let me know what you think of this chapter. **

Gone. She's gone. One moment she was storming out of the room, her fists clenched in anger, and now she's gone. The world whips around me, writhing, and crying, but all I can think is that she's gone. Katniss is gone, Snow has her, she's gone. I pace the living room with my hands knotted in my hair, my eyes wide and disbelieving. Haymitch sits in a armchair with one leg crossed over the other, his elbows on the arms and his hands knotted against his lips. We've sent a message to Finnick and Annie but it isn't as if there's anything we can do about it. When we told Johanna she had stormed up to her bedroom, and we haven't seen her since. I can't tell if she's angry of afraid, but I have a feeling it might just be a little of both.

Haymitch's eyes follow me as I pace back and forth, his lip twitching every once in a while. Finally he uncrosses his legs and leans forward, his elbows falling to his knees. "Can you stop that?" He growls, but I know it's not me he's angry with. "You're going to wear a hole in the carpet." As if he gives a shit about the carpet! I stop for a moment, trying to think of something to say but resume pacing instead. I shouldn't have been so hard on her, I should have been more understanding, I shouldn't have said the things I said. I shake my head, they were things she needed to hear, but they were things that drove her right into the arms of the Capitol. With a grunt I fall into the chair opposite of Haymitch, slummed back with one hand covering my eyes.

"Tea anyone?" Portia asks as she enters the room with a tray stocked with a tea pot, three dainty glasses and tiny little sandwiches. Haymitch rolls his eyes.

"Not unless it's spiked with booze." He growls, but takes a sandwich. I pour myself a cup of tea before sitting back in my chair, my stomach is rolling far too much for me to try and eat something.

Katniss disappeared hours ago, and after the initial panic we realized it would do us no good to rush out into the Capitol with guns blazing. We didn't know where she was, or even exactly took her. If it had been a public thing she would have been on the news already, but as the cheery news casters had yet to say her name I doubt it was an advertised thing. Despite all our intel we still had no idea where they were keeping the Victors, and I didn't know who that bothered more; Haymitch or I. I sip the tea as casually as I can, patterns and fabrics and designs filling my mind. There wis so much I can create with the feelings rolling inside of me, the guilt and the anguish. With my pain I can create a new wardrobe for the world.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs causes a shiver to move down my spine. Wonderful, all we need is- "So while Katniss is being tortured or god knows what you lot are sitting around having tea time?" Johanna all but screams her face and eyes red. She looks almost as if she had been crying, but there was really no way that could be possible. Thought she and Katniss had been posing as sisters they had never been that close, or at least that is what I had thought.

"Well what's your plan then, Sweetheart?" Haymitch hisses, causing Johanna to recoil.

"Don't look at me, buddy. I'm just a soldier." She says with enough acid to burn. "But it would appear as if my generals are all too busy having a tea party!" It looks, for a moment, as if she is going to rush forward and flip over the tea tray but thinks better of it at the last moment. She pushes her short light hair back with a growl, kicking at the chair closest to her as she fumes.

"We're all upset, Johanna-"

"Upset?" She laughs bitterly, wheeling around on all of us. "You don't look upset at all! Not nearly as upset as you should be!" She turns to me and points her finger in my direction accusingly.

"The girl you love could be strapped to a table, being injected with god knows what right now." Her words sting like a slap. "Are you out there trying to find her? Trying to hunt down the people who took her? No! You're sitting in that chair having tea!" I look down into my cup, unable to meet the fire in her eyes. In Johanna's mind we cannot fail. If we rush out into the streets with hell in our hearts she believes there is no way we can't win. She doesn't see why we can't just find Katniss, save her, and bring down the Capitol all in one. It isn't that Johanna is stupid, but after everything she has been through she does believe herself invincible. She believes there is nothing more the Capitol can take from her, but she is wrong.

"Lay off him, Johanna." Haymitch says, stuffing another sandwich into his mouth before addressing her again, this time with a mouth full of food. "You have no plan, no ideas for a plan, and no way to carry them through even if you did." He dusts off his fingers on the leg of his pants. "Everyone in this room cares about Katniss, so stop acting as if you're the only one." He is speaking in a calm and reserved voice, but I can see the fury in his eyes. He blames himself, just as I do. I imagine it was even harder for him, though. He is her mentor, he is supposed to protect her, and he has failed.

Johanna narrows her eyes, her hands on her hips and his stance ready to strike, but her lip quivers, and I can see the faint depression where her teeth were holding onto them behind her teeth, trying to stop them from giving her away. "Well then," she said darkly. "You just let me know when you come up with a plan." She spat before storming back upstairs, her anger like a visible wake behind her.

"Always so charming." Haymitch mutters softly, staring down at his hands where they're clasped in his lap. I wait a moment, as if speaking to soon is going to bring Johanna back down on us. I know how she's feeling, cornered and angry and scared, I can't help but feel the same way. We all feel that way.

"What are we going to do?" I ask after I've finished the last of my tea as if I haven't already asked that question a million times before. I can see in Haymitche's eyes that he's weighting the question, trying to think of the best course of action, or the best way to break the horrible truth to me. We have no way of getting Katniss back, it's a horrible thought that lingers in the back of my mind. Until we throw down the Capitol she's trapped where she is, and if we can't over throw Snow before she's killed then there was nothing we could have done. The thought makes my insides twist into such a tight knot that I instantly regret drinking the tea.

"I don't know, Cinna." He said, still staring down at his hands as if they hold the one true answer. "I just don't know.

* * *

><p>"Alice, eat your green beans, don't just push them around your plate." I say in an even voice, not even bothering to look at the little girl who has been, for the last ten minutes, only pretending to eat her vegetables.<p>

"But I hate green beans!" She moans dramatically, as if she were seven instead of thirteen. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at me defiantly, but one hard stare has her glumly chewing on the greens. "Brutus never makes me eat green beans." She mumbles, like a spoiled kid trying to pin her parents against each other.

"Yeah, well it's a bad thing he's not here with you isn't it?" I respond, a little sharper than I had meant to. Alice looks at me with wide eyes, her tiny cupid-bow lips slacked open and trembling like she's about to cry.

"I didn't mean it like th-"

"I know, Alice. I'm sorry I'm just… tired." Well, at least that much is not a lie. Since I've come to this… facility, I've hardly been able to sleep more than a few minutes at a time. Every time I close my eyes I remember here I am, and what they could be doing too the people who leave and don't come back. That alone is enough to chance away any idea of sleep. I think I've been here for a few days, but without a clock or the sun it's hard to tell. For all I know these meals could be coming at randomly chosen intervals, as they always seem to few and far between.

Sometimes it feels like the Capitol isn't quite sure what they want to do with us. Sometimes we have three meals, all squared and perfect, and other times we only get one, and the one we do get is so puny we're all left feeling as weak as new born kittens the next day. Between hunger from lack of eating and stomach pains from eating too much when there is food we're all as useless as baby birds, completely unable to defend ourselves or pose a threat to anyone. I'm halfway through with my hunk of some undistinguishable meat when our otherwise pleasant meal is interrupted. "Katniss Everdeen, District Twelve." A voice at the other end of the room calls out; a Peace Keeper standing at the door in a pristine white uniform with a blood red clip board in his hands. I feel my blood turn to ice in my veins; I should have known I'd be the next to be called, who else would they pick? Alice and Brutus said there hadn't been anyone called in weeks; of course they would choose me next.

"No…" Alice whispers as I stand. If I don't go quietly I know they will only drag me out of here screaming, and while I don't want to make this easy for them I certainly don't want to leave that sort of example for Alice, I don't want her to think I am cowardly as well as utterly useless. I've failed her again, as it would seem. All I could hope now was that she'd follow my example and be brave and that Haymitch and Cinna would find a way to get everyone out of here before another name was called.

"Keep eating, Alice." I murmur back to her, wondering where Brutus is and why he isn't here to keep her under control.

"No! You can't go!" She screams as she grabs onto my leg. "You can't leave me, you just got here! Katniss you can't leave!" There are tears glistening on her rosy little cheeks, but she doesn't try to follow me out of the room. I can hear her sobs until the door sides shut behind me and a Peace Keeper roughly grabs my arm. I shrug out of his grasp.

"I can walk by myself, thanks." I hiss, walking with my shoulders back and my head high. I won't give Snow the victory of seeing me frightened, even if every cell in my body is a panicking live-wire. We walk in silence for a long time, so long that I soon find I can't take it anymore, not when so many questions are flying through my mind. "So… where is this little fieldtrip headed?" I ask with no expectation of a response.

"Examination room A." He said briskly without a delay. I let out a short breath, if he's unafraid of telling me the truth that can only mean he assumes I can't get away, I can't try to escape. When we arrive at the Examination room I realize why, the hall leads nowhere else. There are no side halls, or exit doors, or nooks and crannies to hide in. It is only one long corridor that ends in three different doors. The Peace Keeper steps forward and opens the first door for me, motioning me through without so much as an order.

The room is twice as tall as it is wide, with a padded chair in the center. There are straps all over it, and a small metal table to the side. A woman with a pleasant smile and a white coat stands beside the chair, motioning for me to take a seat. I look up towards the roof, finding a set of windows that look into a room, but I can't see much else from the angle. There are people standing there, but they're in shadow. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them was Snow, and the feeling fills me with rage. I sit without further instruction. What good would it do me to fight? Chances are there are a dozen armed guards up there with guns loaded with tranquilizers, and if something is going to be done to me I'd at least like to be awake for it. "Sorry about the straps." The woman says softly, her unnatural icy-blue eyes unnerving. "It's just a precautionary step. You see, this procedure can cause muscle spasms, and we wouldn't want you hurting yourself." She's lying, I can tell by the way the left side of her mouth twitches ever so slightly.

"Sounds like fun." I hiss snidely, but the woman only smiles. With the Peace Keeper's help she straps my ankles, my hips, my wrists, my elbows, my waist, my shoulders, and my head to the chair. I can't help but notice that the Peace Keeper's straps aren't quite as tight as her's, and I wonder if she has higher expectations than he does.

"Now Katniss," the woman begins in an instructive tone, as she pulls up the sleeve of my uniform and wipes a patch of my skin with a piece of paper that reeks like Haymitch's white liquor. "In this test, I would like you to imagine the most wonderful place you can, filled with all the people you love. It will make this… easier." She readies a syringe filled with a thick orange liquid. "Just go into that place and stay there." She looks to my face, the needle poised above my skin. "Can you do that for me?" I feel my body tense as I prepare for the worse.

"Go to hell." I whisper, but the woman doesn't as much as falter. Without a response she plunges the needle into my arm, and I jam my eyes shut. With the plunger all the way home she pulls back the needle and places a band-aid over the small puncture wound. I feel my heart begin to race in my chest, beating so quickly that I feel as if it will explode. The woman walks away from me then with the Peace Keeper, towards a door in the wall I hadn't noticed before. As soon as they are out, however, someone else sneaks in.

The world is getting fuzzy, and my head feels as if it's full of wasps, all buzzing to loudly for me to think. I cast a glance at the person who had entered, and as soon as my eyes fall on him my heart leaps into my throat and I let out a cry. "Cinna!" I scream, my body melting into the chair. "Thank god you're here, they gave me something-" Cinna turns away from me, showing me his back. "Look, I know you're probably still mad at me but-" I narrow my eyes, trying to get a better glimpse of him as he sinks to his knees, and though I struggle against the chair I can't free myself. "Cinna?" I mutter. "What are you doing?" He leans back onto his hands and pulls his feet out from under him until they are the only things touching the ground. I'm about to demand an answer from him when his head turns like an owl's to face me, only now where his eyes should be there is nothing but sewn-over skin, and a mouth that is jagged and full of pointed teeth.

I let out a long loud scream, bucking against the chair as he crawls back towards me, his joints twisting and turning as he grabs onto my straps, using them to pull himself up. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands on me, his claws digging into my skin, as he comes face to face with me. When I open my eye, just a bit, I see that he is smiling at me, the same horrible smile as the mutt's in this year's Game. I scream again, thrashing wildly as a forked tongue flicks out from between his teeth to dance across my face. He licks the tears off my cheeks, his claws leaving holes in my uniform. I don't know how long I stay in that hell, where a horrible monstrous version of Cinna taunts and torments me, but it feels like ages. When he lowered himself to the ground and slinks back out the door he had entered through I feel my heart begin to slow and my senses begin to come back. I stop fighting, I stop sobbing, I just lean back against the head-rest and let the tears silently fall down my cheeks. With my mind slowly clearing itself I have the chance to realize something I hadn't noticed in my state of terror.

Where everything had once been white before it was now tainted by the faintest bit of shimmer.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Hello everyone, and to my readers in the US HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Due to my Thanksgiving holiday I've finally had time to sit down and finish this chapter, and I really hope it lives up to your expectations. I'm trying to push through this, I really am. I know I've been inconsistent with my posting lately but I promise I have not forgotten this story, and I have not forgotten all of you! I would like to thank everyone's kind words when it comes to my recent troubles, you really have no idea how much they have meant to me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I would really appreciate some feedback, helps keep me on track, really. Thanks for reading everyone!**

Chapter Thirty-Four:

They come for me every three days like clockwork. I haven't seen Alice or Brutus since they took me the first time for my treatment, but most of the time I can't even remember them. I have small windows of clarity, small sections of time when I can remember who I am and why I'm here. Most of the time I exist in a calm, peaceful state, and I can't decide if I like the clarity or the calm more. In these small periods of coherence, however, I remember myself perfectly. I am Katniss Everdeen, the Victor of District Twelve. I was in love with Peeta Mellark, and I remember his death two ways. Once he died in the Arena, and once he died at the hands of District Thirteen. Sometimes I get so confused I can't even remember which is true and which isn't.

I remember Cinna, I remember sweet kind Cinna who loved me with his whole heart. I remember his gentle touches, his warm embraces. I remember the feeling of his breath on my skin and his heart pounding in his chest. I also remember him turning on me, him telling me that he was tired of waiting, I remember fighting, cruel words, jealousy, and anger, and viciousness that turned him into a monstrosity. I shiver at the thought of it; I never knew Cinna had such darkness inside of him. If I had known, well I'm not quite sure what I would have done.

As I sit at my table, eating my meal of spaghetti and meat balls, I contemplate the differences in people, and the lies I always believed to be the truth. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and turn, finding a smile face looking down at me. "Hello Katniss." Gloss says as he drops into the seat beside me, and I wrinkle my nose. I remember something unsavory about him, something that should make me want to scoot away from him. I try to think about it, try to recall it, but it slips away like smoke. The feeling of suspicion is replaces by reassurance. Gloss is my friend, we've always been friends.

"Hello Gloss." I say as he begins picking at this garlic bread. He likes the garlic bread; it's his favorite part about Thursdays.

"Having a pleasant day?" His doesn't look at me when he asks this, he never does. He simply loads a fork full of noodles and shoved it into his mouth. Only when his mouth is so full that a noodle is hanging out of it does he turn to smile at me.

"Oh yes, thank you." I respond, like always. I laugh when I see him slurp his noodle, it is so rude but on his handsome face the splatter of sauce is almost endearing. "How are you?" I cut a meatball in half with my fork before biting into it. We never had food like this in District Twelve, not even when I was living in the Victor's village. It is so delicious and flavorful, I can only recall such bounty within the Capitol.

"I just got finished with my treatment." He says with a shrug, and once he has said it I notice the paleness of his cheeks and the pained look in his eyes. I'm a bad friend for not noticing it sooner.

"Was it very horrible?" He nods his head, and I can see the fear in his eyes.

"I just don't understand why District Thirteen would do all those things to us." For a moment his stare goes blank and he freezes. This happens to Gloss from time to time. His mind is so busy processing all the horror he was forced to endure that his body shuts down. The doctors tell us that it is his mind's way of protecting him, but I think it's something more than that. I think there are things inside of him, things District Thirteen did to him, that will never heal, never get better. He will always be haunted by these ghosts and demons, and not even the Capitol can save him.

I wait silently at Gloss' side, waiting for him to come back to himself. Sometimes it only takes a few seconds, but other times the doctors have to come in and take him away. I sip on my water as I watch him, and I swear I can almost see the conflict in his eyes. After about a minute his whole body shivers, and I know that he is through it. For now, at least. "What was I saying?" He asks, and I know I can't bring him back to the horrors of District Thirteen; it will only trigger another episode, or worse.

"You were telling me your favorite food." I say with a convincing smile, and even though Gloss doesn't remember talking about food he grins and goes on as if he had been. Our conversation goes on for quite a bit, and as dinner progresses other comes and go to our table. Most of them I don't know very well, they are just faces I have seen around the games before, but some are my friends. We talk, and we eat, and when the bell chimes we all stand together to make our way to the sleeping quarters.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Katniss." Gloss says as he turns and makes his way towards the men's dormitory. I, however, follow Cashmere towards the women's. As we walk Cashmere slows her strides to walk in step with me.

"I'm glad you and my brother are friends." Cashmere says in a voice like… well Cashmere. I've never actually touched it myself, but I've seen it on Capitol television, and it just looks so soft and warm. "I know whatever happened to him in District Thirteen was awful, but he doesn't let me help him; I guess he's too proud to accept the assistance of his little sister." She turns to look at me, wide eyes bright in the florescent lights. "But he trusts you, I always see him talking to you. You're good for him you'll help him get better." She threads her arm through mine, the same desperation in her eyes as every time we have this conversation. "You will help him get better, won't you Katniss?"

I grip her arm back, nodding my head furiously. "Of course I will, Gloss and I are friends." I say, and she smiles as if she is very relieved.

"I find it easier to fall asleep at night when you tell me this." She says before sighing, running her fingers through her long beautiful hair. "Sometimes I have nightmares that he'll never get better, and I'll spend the rest of our lives chasing my brother's ghost." She turns to look at me, and I feel a knot tie in my stomach. "He always seems better after he spends time with you, like he remembers more of himself." When we reach her room Cashmere kisses my cheek as if we are sisters. "I'm so very glad you're my brother's friend."

"I am glad as well." I smile. _Wrong._ Something in the back of my mind whispers, but it is gone as quickly as it came. Once Cashmere is gone I turn away from her door, surprised to find a doctor standing behind me. I don't know his name, but he is a kindly looking older gentleman. His eyes are brown and soft, and his hair is green, though both it and his moustache are peppered with grey. "Hello doctor." I say, and the doctor smiles at me.

"Hello Katniss, have you had a pleasant day?" I think back on what I did today, my eyes trailing towards the ceiling.

"I played catch with Gallo and painted with Mags." Gallo is from District Eleven, and won his Hunger Game when he was still young. Now he is older than my mother. Mags is even older than him, I can't really understand her when she talks but I like to sit with her sometimes. She smells like the sea, and she reminds me of someone District Thirteen stole from me, but I can't really remember who it is.

"You're scheduled for a treatment tonight." The doctor says, and I squint my eyes. I've never had a treatment before bedtime, usually my treatments are right after lunch. I had one yesterday. Usually we read before bedtime, and right I'm in the middle of a very good novel about the rebellion that happened so many years ago.

"Oh?" I respond as he gentle takes my arm. _Fight this._ For a moment I hesitate, pulling back away from the doctor. He turns back to look at me, his eyes narrowed. He tightens his grip, as if he is expecting me to run.

"Remember Katniss, you're treatments are necessary if you're to get better." I nod my head and follow him. He's right, they always are. If I want to get better, if I want to fight the resistance and restore peace to Panem I have to comply. I have to help. Otherwise Snow will not be able to save my mother and Prim from District Thirteen. Cinna is already too far gone, already a monster they cannot save. The thought fills me with dread, but I try to push it away. He is gone, just like Peeta, there is nothing I can do but avenge him. Tears sting my eye, they stole Cinna from me and replaced him with a monster, I've seen it. They've taken everything good and wonderful about him and corrupted it. Perverted it. Destroyed it. _Wrong._ The voice whispers and I close my eyes, shaking my head against it. _Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Run, Katniss. Run. Fight. Get out. Find Alice. Escape. _I cover my ears with my hands, and the doctor turns back to look at me sympathetically.

"Still hearing the voice?" He asks knowingly, and I nod. He sighs and takes my hand, I open my tearful eyes to look at him.

"Make it stop." I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks. "It hurts."

"We're going to fix this, Katniss." He says in a voice that almost immediately calms me. "We're going to make the voice go away. We're going to make you better." I give him a brave nod and continue walking once more. I am going to get better. They will make me better; the Capitol will make me better. District Thirteen broke me but I will be fixed. I repeat this over and over and over until it drowns out the voice in the back of my mind. _Wrong. Run, Katniss. Danger. Run. _

* * *

><p>She's been gone for nearly a month, and we're no closer to finding her now then we were weeks ago. I sit in my room, my head in my hands as I play my failure in my mind on an endless loop. I knew she was in a sensitive state, I knew she wasn't stable; I knew that if I confronted her about her anger she would storm out of the room. I knew it was dangerous outside, I knew all these things and yet I still let her go. I sat there, rubbing my sore chin where she punched me, and told myself it would be better if she went on a walk, better if she had time to clear her head. I let her walk away, and I let her get snatched by President Snow.<p>

I rub my hands over my face; the past week has been torture. Last night I found Haymitch asleep in an armchair with a small empty liquor bottle under his arm. I don't know where he found it, but somehow he did. Johanna rarely comes out of her room, and when she does it's only to hiss something cruel at the lot of us for not having a plan already, as if we are all just lounging about telling stories instead of pouring over lead after lead, begging for a break. I never knew Johanna cared that much about Katniss; honestly I hadn't known Johanna cared that much about anyone other than herself. Slowly, with much more effort than I would like to admit it takes, I stand from my seat on my bed and make my way over towards the window. Outside the sun is shining, birds are singing, and there is a light layer of snow covering the ground. I touch my hand to the window, watching as the glass fogs at my touch.

I jump when the door to my room slams open, Johanna standing in the doorway. She's got one hand on the door knob and one hand on the door frame. Her eyes are wide with an emotion I can't really place. It almost looks like horror mixed with hope. "You need to see this." She says before rushing away once more, leaving the door wide open. I don't hesitate, as quickly as I can I rush down into the living room, surprised to find everyone surrounding the large TV. I narrow my eyes as I look to the screen, and my heart stops in my chest. She's alive. Katniss is alive. I let out a short, strangled sound as I rush closer, as if being closer to the image over her will make me closer to her.

She looks lovely, positively perfect. Her hair is long and brown once more, hanging in lazy curls as glossy and smooth as I could ever make them. She's wearing a simple green dress that makes her look younger than she is, and the way she smiles at Caesar Flickerman makes me sick. "You are the picture of radiance today, Katniss." He says charmingly, and the audience claps in agreement.

"Well, I don't know about that, but thank you." Katniss says with a smile and shake of her head. The audience claps once more, drinking up her modesty. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you again, Caesar." She says as she reaches across the space between them, taking his hand gently.

"I'm simply glad to have you back safely inside the Capitol." He says in a relieved voice. "I've come to learn that you've been through quite the ordeal, haven't you Katniss?" Katniss' smile falters and she looks down into her lap. "Would you like to talk about it?" Tears well in her eyes and spill down her rosy cheeks. My hands shake at my sides, desperately wanting to brush those tears away, even though I know I can't.

"It was awful, Caesar." She cries, her voice weak and broken, and I can see Caesar squeeze her hand reassuringly. "They did… they did such horrible things to me." She sobs, and he hands her a handkerchief.

"Who did, love?" He asks, baiting her.

"D-District Thirteen." She moans, and I feel my heart break in my chest. "They shot down my ship while Pultarch and I were on our way to District Twelve, and took my family and I." I feel anger well inside of me, what is this? "They tortured me, made me believe that they were doing the right thing. They told me Peeta was alive, they let me see him." There is a sad smile on her face, and combined with the tears staining her cheeks it is a rather moving image. "They made me believe he had been alive all this time, that he had been waiting for me. I was so happy, and then they killed him!" She shook her head.

"He wasn't even the real Peeta, he was a mutt they had made to look like him, and taught to act like him." She pauses for a moment to look at Caesar dramatically. "He was perfect, he even smelled like Peeta." The audience lets out a soft 'aww' noise, as if they all deeply sympathize. "They tricked me, and then they took him away from me and tried to make me believe it was the Capitol's fault." She looks up at the audience. "They killed him in front of me." The audience breaths a collective gasp of shock. Caesar stands from his seat and crouches before Katniss, though the audience and cameras can still see his face. He takes both her hands.

"That's all behind you now." He says comfortingly, but her tears don't ebb.

"They still have Haymitch, and Johanna, and my mother, and Prim." There is discontent in the audience, and I can tell they are as upset as Katniss is, though their feelings lean more towards anger.

"And what about Cinna?" Katniss' body goes ridged, and her eyes fill with a dark kind of hatred. She shakes her head, her tears stopping as her cheeks burn red.

"He's one of them!" She growls, and the audience hisses. "District Thirteen got their hands on him and turned him into a monster! They knew he was close to me and they destroyed him, he's nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothes now! He killed Pultarch when the Hovercraft went down and he helped them kill Peeta!" She looks out into the roomful of Capitol Citizens. "I would bet he is in the Capitol right now, trying to find me so he can drag me back there." Her voice breaks, and the pain in my chest is unbearable.

The rest of the interview falls on deaf ears. I just stand there, in front of all the others, with a dumbfounded look on my face. She hates me, she really hates me. I've always been able to tell when Katniss is lying, even after the Capitol turned her into a master of lies. She could never fool me, and now when I look into her lovely grey eyes I know they have found a way to make her see friend as foe and foe as friend. She looks at Caesar with such trust, such admiration. I feel anger well deep inside of me; she once looked at me like that, now she can't even take about me without being whipped into frenzy.

"What have they done to her?" I ask in a tight voice, my arms crossed over my chest.

"She's been high-jacked." Portia murmurs, causing all eyes to turn to her. "They've injected her with small amounts of tracker-jacker venom, made her see what they want her to see, hear what they want her to hear, believe what they want her to believe." Her eyes meet mine, and I see the despair in them. "They've brain washed her." I feel my body tremble as I process her words. Katniss has been brainwashed, high-jacked, whatever. She thinks I'm her enemy, thinks the Capitol is her friend. I look back to the screen just in time to see Caesar kissing the back of her hand.

"I believe I speak for all the Capitol when I say we will not allow this injustice go unpunished." He says, his eyes turning towards the citizens in the room. When the camera scans over them my body turns to stone. There is murder in each of their eyes, blood lust. They want nothing more than to find us, to find me, and make us pay for what they believe we've done to Katniss. When the screen goes black no one says anything, because we all are too afraid to speak. Our strongest weapon is now being used against us, and there is nothing we can do about it. She believes with all her heart that we will try to hurt her, how can we save her if she doesn't trust us? I think back to the way she looked when Caesar said my name. She hates me, she really hates me. I wouldn't be surprised if she tries to kill me when we find her… if we find her.

I shove the doubt out of my mind. No, there is no if, there is only a when. I will find her, I will save her, I will help her get through… whatever it is they've done to her. "We're going to find her." I hiss in the silence, but no one responds. "Not tomorrow, today." I turn to Portia. "I want you to contact every contact you have, I want you to talk to all of them-"

"You think I haven't already done that-"

"Do it again!" I growl, and she shrinks back. "We are going to find her _now._ She can't wait any longer, god knows what else they'll do to her." I look back to the screen, but now I only see a reflection of all the people sitting in the room.

"It can't be worse than what they've already done." Johanna mutters from her place on the rug, her back to the couch and her arms wrapped around her knees. "She's gone, Cinna." Her words send stabs of pain into my skin. I won't accept that, I won't believe it. I can't.

"And we're going to get her back!" I yell; my cheeks and the back of my neck hot. They all just look at me in shock for a moment, unsure of what to make of my anger. They've never seen me as anything but controlled, nothing but calm and gentle. Calm and gentle haven't helped me find her yet, so perhaps anger and hardness will. "Let's go!" I yell, and surprisingly everyone scrambles into motion. Once everyone has left the room I turn to find Haymitch standing silently behind me, looking at me appraisingly.

"Determination is a good look on you, kid." He says with a small smile before going to meet Portia, and I feel a small bubble of hope rise in my chest. Until now we've all been sitting around waiting for the information to just fall into our laps, for Katniss to find her own way out or the Capitol to slip up. Those things, however, aren't going to happen. I tighten my hands into firsts, my nails biting into my palms. I'm going to find her, and I really couldn't care less what has to be done to do so.


	35. Chapter 35

_**A/N: There really is no excuse as to why it has taken me this long to finish the story, but I will tell you the reason. Someone very close to me died, and for a long time I didn't know how to deal with that. I didn't know how to be myself anymore and for a long time the things I loved to do (like reading and writing) just fell apart. I'm getting better though, I'm moving on and healing, and accepting what happened, and I knew that one of the first things I wanted to do was finish this story. So here you have it, a long lovely chapter that concludes this story. I'm just sorry that it took so long, especially considering that most of you will probably have forgotten this story by now. But this is for all of you, for each and every one of you. You will never know how much I love each and every one of you, and I hope you enjoy it. **_

_**-Shannon**_

Everything is falling into place, much faster than I would have originally anticipated. When we reached out our fingers, really digging as far into our resources as we could, it was astonishing what we were able to come up with. For a few moments I was furious, wondering if perhaps people hadn't been searching as hard as they could have been, but I remind myself quickly that there is no point in getting angry. Results are results, no matter how late. With the list in my hand I pace the living room, coordinates mapped out on a small piece of paper that resembles the Capitol. There are literally a million different places they could be hiding the Victors, between the vastness of the city itself and its labyrinth of sewers they could literally be anywhere.

Everyone is in motion, grabbing everything they can think we might possibly need. Up until this moment our every plan has been thwarted because of one simple reason, our plans were too complicated. There were too many steps, to many things that could go wrong, so instead we've decided to stick to the most rudimentary plan of all. We're going to sneak into the most likely locations until we find the one we're looking for. Portia has yet to be implicated in our 'treason' so all her security badges and clearance cards should still work, it's the one piece of luck we've had in this entire endeavor.

I sit down at the kitchen table with the paper spread out in front of me, my eyes baring into it, trying to figure out the most likely place they would hide her. It would have to be something accessible but not too obvious, somewhere that could house a large number of people without giving anything away. I scratch off Snow's mansion and the City Hall, there's no way they could facilitate the amount of people they'd be housing in those places, especially if they're jacking all of them. I rest my head in the palm of my hand as Haymitch drops himself into the seat adjacent to mine, his fingers drumming out a rhythm on the mahogany table.

"Hmm…" Haymitch hums as he looks over the papers in front of me, his fingers still tapping against the table, I try my best not to let him drive me crazy.

"What?" I ask, my eyebrows arched as I look up at him.

"Oh nothing." He says, putting his chin on his fist. "It's just… well I find it a little strange that suddenly all our contacts are just pouring with information." I sit back in my chair, taking a deep breath.

"I noticed that too." I say, running my hands over my short cropped hair. "But I don't know what to make of it." Haymitch leaned back, his arm draped over the back of his chair.

"C'mon, Cinna. Do you really think it's a coincidence that right after Katniss comes out on TV all this information just pours in? You're smarter than that." He looked around the room before leaning forward once more. "As far as I can tell there are two possibilities; either someone's been hiding something from us or this is exactly what Snow wants. Snow wants us to find them, wants us to try to break into the facilities. He knows we're here, that much was obvious from what Katniss said in her interview, he's setting a trap and he's hoping we'll spring it."

I rub my hands over my face, I know he's right. I know that we're backing ourselves into a corner, but I can't just sit here and do nothing any more. I can't sit around waiting for things to get better. Katniss needs me; she needs to get out of there. She didn't even remember who she was anymore. Snow stole the only thing Katniss had left, he stole her very soul. When he realized he couldn't break her with actions he turned to drugs, and the thought of Katniss being tied to a table while Tracker-Jacker venom coursed through her is more than I can stand. "So what? Do we just sit here and wait for something to happen?"

"We'll be running headlong into Snow's hands, Cinna." He says in a stern voice, as if he's my Mentor as well as Katniss's. "Do you think you'll be able to do Katniss any good if you're dead?" I chew on my lip, trying to think of something to say, something that can make Snow's trap seem less plausible.

"We have to do something." I murmur, and Haymitch sighs. I can see it in his eyes, he's just as desperate to save her as I am, but unlike me I doubt he's willing to sacrifice all of our lives for hers. Perhaps that makes me a selfish person, a bad person, but there is not a single person in this house that I would choose to survive over Katniss. Not even all of them together.

"We do." He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. "But we can't just rush in, guns blazing, and think this whole thing won't just blow up in our faces. If we're not careful all we're going to accomplish is getting ourselves trapped alongside the Victors." He removes his hands from his face and looks at me once more. "You know there's nothing Snow would like more than to get his hands on the lot of us." I push my chair back and stand, when I turn I find Johanna leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Well, the answer is obvious, isn't it?" She asked with a small smirk on her lips. I tilt my head to the side, not understanding what she means. "If we can't sneak in, can't break in, we'll just have to be _taken_ in." I gape at her in shock, and I hear Haymitch make a sort of choking noise.

"Are you insane, Mason?" Haymitch barks, standing from his seat quickly. "You think they'd let any of us get anywhere near Katniss? They'd probably just kill us on sight." She lets out a low soft laugh.

"You really don't know Snow at all if you think he's just let us die without punishment." She saunters into the room, putting her hands on the table to lean on them. "He isn't just going to execute us and be done with it, he's going to make a public spectacle of it, he's going to make sure everyone sees what happens when they cross the Capitol. Besides, if we die our knowledge of District Thirteen dies with us." There is a dark sparkle in her eyes, a mischievousness that has me on edge.

"What are you planning, Johanna?" I ask, my heart pounding as the hope of Katniss's rescue begins to bloom inside of me. Johanna unclicks the latch on her thigh holster and pulls out her small handgun. With an expert, fluent motion she unloads the gun, dropping the bullets back into the holster before holding the barrel of the unloaded gun just under her chin.

"I say we take ourselves hostage and make a few demands of our own." She grins, and I can't help but grin as well.

* * *

><p>Other than Gloss and a few other's don't get to see the other Victors any more. President Snow says it's because we've been healed while the other's still need a little more time, and that makes me feel bad for them. I don't miss the sterile white walls or the spaghetti on Thursday. I don't miss the shared sleeping quarters or smell of bleach and cleaning products. Most of all I don't miss the daily treatments. Now that I've come to stay in the training facility with the other healed Victors I only have to have a treatment once a week, unless I have a problem or hear the voice again, then I have on immediately.<p>

I've been healed for about a week now, and the feeling is so amazing. I feel free, cared for, and most importantly the hallucinations that District Thirteen had planted in my mind no longer haunt me. I no longer dream about the monster Cinna crawling towards me backwards, or of them burning Prim at the stake like a witch. To have a peaceful night's sleep again is a blessing I thought I'd never afford.

All day I meet with Capitol citizens of importance and tell them of my ordeal within District Thirteen, and no matter how many times I tell the story on television there is always someone who hasn't heard it and wants to, always someone President Snow arranged to come here to hear the story first had from my own lips. They come for all of us, for myself and Gloss and Mags and Gallo and Darleen, they come to hear our stories and wish us well and tell us how happy they are to have us back. Sometimes I don't feel like talking, sometimes I don't want to tell them the hell I'd lived through, but Snow always gently reminds me that everyone deserves to know about the monsters living beneath the earth in District Thirteen. Everyone has the right to know about the danger that is out there.

With my stylist, a young woman with short neon yellow hair, I walk towards another one of these such interviews, but as we come into the main rom there's the sound of gunshots, and both myself and the girl hit the ground. I cover my head with my hands while shards of glass rain down around me. I feel a few pieces slice my arms as they fall onto my tender pink flesh. After a moment I lift my head to see the Peacekeepers surrounding a girl, but they make no move to grab her. "Anyone makes so much as a step towards me and I'm blowing my brains everywhere." She growls threateningly, and I realize with a start that I know that voice, I know that voice very well. "Johanna!" I call out as I hurry to a standing position. How did she escape District Thirteen? How did she make it all the way here? Why was she holding a gun to her chin?

"Johanna!" I call again as I make my way towards her, a million memories running through my head as I search her face. She looks healthy, not starved and sick as I had been when I finally made my way towards the Capitol. There's a warm flush in her cheeks and a wicked sort of smile on her face.

"Hello, Katniss." She says, her eyes finding mine and locking in the space between us. "You might want to tell your guard dogs to back off, my head is full of juicy District Thirteen secrets, and if Snow ever wants them he'll have to make sure I'm alive, won't he?" I stare at her for a moment, unsure of what to do. I had thought she was dead, Snow had told me so himself. I remember crying when he came to my room and told me the unfortunate news, told me that District Thirteen had executed her. I felt anger flare within me, that could only mean one thing. I clench my hands at my sides, my body shaking.

"Grab her! She's a mutt from Thirteen!" I hiss, and the Peace Keepers rush forward. Johanna, the thing wearing Johanna's face, looks at me in shock, and I glare back. Did they really think I'd fall for the same trick twice? They already made me convince Peeta was alive when he wasn't, they weren't going to hurt me again by dangling Johanna in front of me. Once the Peace Keeper's have wrestled the gun from her hands and subdued her I take a few steps closer. She's such a perfect replica, she looks exactly like Johanna, all the way down to the anger flaring in her eyes.

"Katniss is in the Training Center." Johanna says out loud, as if we didn't know where we were already. Suddenly her jaw clenches and I hear something snap. Her eyes widen for a moment, and there's a second of silence before a white foam begins leaking from the corners of her mouth and her body begins to convulse. The Peace Keepers try to set her down, try to pry her lips open, but by the time they do her eyes are staring into nothing and her body has stopped moving.

"Cyanide." One of the Peace Keepers whispers to another in a voice he thinks I won't hear. As they begin to pick up Johanna's body I feel a chill move through me. _That was Johanna. The real one._ The voice whispers in the back of my head, and I try to hide my cringe. No, that wasn't the real Johanna, the real Johanna was already dead. District Thirteen killed her, Cinna killed her. Snow told me so, he told me. _Lies. _The voice hisses. _All lies. _ I try to ignore the voice, try to pretend I don't hear it, but now that it's back inside my head it will not be silenced. _It's all lies, Katniss. Run. Get out. Find Cinna. Find Alice. Get out! _ I know what will happen next, someone will notice my state and take me to get a treatment, and my body goes cold at the realization. I don't want a treatment, I don't want the pain, I don't want things to go back to the way they were when I was in the white room. So instead I stand still, a pleasant look on my face, and wait for a Peace Keeper to tell me what to do.

It's as if they remember I'm still there suddenly, as if they'd completely forgotten about me. "Come on Mrs. Havensbee." One guard says as he takes my arm. "You've got an appointment to keep." He says and I nod my head obediently.

"I'd hate to keep them waiting." I say with a smile as the Peace Keeper takes me by my arm and starts pulling me towards the stairs the descend to the meeting rooms. In my heart, in my head, the voice grows louder and louder. _Fight. Run. Get out. Kill them. Kill them all. Run. _

* * *

><p>The line goes dead, our only link to Johanna. I retreat from the building I had been about to enter, holstering my gun. She had gone before the mark, she had rushed in first, she had been so sure Katniss was in the Training Center and apparently she'd been correct. Still, my heart goes still. She's dead, I know it. I heard the sound of her body hit the floor, I even heard the sound of her teeth sinking into the cyanide capsule we all carry with us. Death was better than capture, Johanna believed that even more strongly than the rest of us.<p>

Carefully I shimmy my way back into the sewers, rushing towards our meeting spot. The longer I'm out in the open the more time I have to be discovered, and while the sewers seem like they'd be the perfect place for us it is surprising how many times I've had to duck into crevices and nooks to hide from approaching footsteps. Sure, more of them were Avox's, but just because they couldn't speak didn't mean they couldn't write what they had seen. One word could have all the Peace Keepers in the Capitol baring down on us, have them trapping us by blocking our every exit. There are too many things that could go wrong to be foolish enough to think that staying out in the open for too long could be a sensible idea.

When I reach the small room we had chosen for our meeting place, a small valve room that had obviously been forgotten for years, I find that I'm the last to arrive. When I reach the room the others look up at me, their eyes full of the same mourning. They all know that Johanna is dead, I don't have to explain to them what happened. I don't know if that should make me feel relieved but it does. I don't know why I thought I'd be the only one who would know what those small disjointed sounds had meant. Haymitch is staring at his feet, and Portia is looking at her hands. The other faces in the room don't matter to me, their people I hardly know, people of similar interests we found within the Capitol. They weren't enough, they had never seen war or strife. God knew why they wanted to help us at all, and while Portia vouched for them I still found myself slow to trust them. After all, who was to say they were spys sent my Snow to capture us all?

"So, the kid's in the Training Center… seems fit." Haymitch says as he runs a hand over his hair, which is beginning to fade back to its natural color. "That's just peachy." He says, and I wonder if anyone is going to say anything about Johanna's death at all. I know now is not the time, but it still feels wrong to ignore what just happened. Part of me wonders if that was her plan from the beginning, to sacrifice herself to save Katniss and the other victors. While that didn't seem like something Johanna would do there was an honest truth we all acknowledged, none of us knew Johanna as well as we should have. She never let us.

"The guards will be doubled now that Johanna has gotten through." Portia says with a short nod of her head. "It won't be as easy for us to get in as it was for her."

"You and I know every inch of the Training Center." I say with confidence. "We know the secret entrances and exits better than Johanna did, we'll find a way in. I doubt they'll expect us to attempt a break in tonight-"

"No, but they'll be ready for it none-the-less. Snow is a paranoid man, and for good reason." Haymitch interrupts, and I find I cannot argue with him. "There's a reason he's stayed in power for as long as he has, and it's not because of popular vote." I had heard rumors of Snow's vicious manners of control, and I didn't have a problem believing each and every one. A loud noise makes us all jump, and for a moment we stand around silently, waiting for the ceiling to fall down on us.

"We need to get out of here now." Haymitch says. "The sooner we get to the Training Center the less likely we are to run into trouble. The more time we give them to regroup the harder it will be on us." The sound comes again, this time from closer. I feel my blood run cold, what in the world were they doing?

"Let's get moving then." I whisper, though I probably don't have to be quite that cautious. We're still surrounded by thick cement walls, I doubt they'd be able to hear us unless they were standing right outside the door. Then again, that was assuming that they didn't have every inch of the sewers bugged, which seems like something Snow would do.

"We can enter the Training Center from the lowest point." A man whose name I haven't bothered learning whispers. "In the cellar there is an opening in the floor just big enough for us to crawl through, so long as they haven't put anything on top of the door." I remember slowly that Portia said he was an architect for the Capitol, and I couldn't help but find that suspiciously convenient.

"What's that door even for?" Haymitch asks with his eyebrows narrowed, and the architect blushes from his purple hair to his toes.

"Avox's who don't behave spend the night in the sewer with the rats." He says quietly. "They're all chipped, it's not as if they can run very far, and if they do run… well…" He doesn't need to say the rest, we all know what he means when he cannot find the words. People who run from the Capitol are killed, plain and simple. The bang echoes around us, and this time I can actually feel the ground shaking.

"Do you have any idea what that is?" I ask the architect, but he shakes his head.

"I specialized in buildings, not subterranean architecture." I nod my head, watching as Haymitch crosses the small room to the door, opening it slowly. He looks to the right, and then to the left. I watch as the color drains from his face.

"We've got to hurry." He says desperately. "They're closing off the sewers." I push my way towards the door.

"What?" But as soon as I say it I see what he means. About five hundred yards away, where only moments before there had been an endless expanse of tunnels, they was nothing but a large cement block standing in our way. I duck my head back into the room, scanning the face of each of my small rag-tag group. "Which way?" The architect stutters for a moment, looking at his shoes as if he's deep in thought. "I said, which way!" I yell, my face turning red with anger. We don't have time for him to be unsure.

"Left! Left about a mile then a right, I think." He says, and even though the end of his instructions proved he wasn't certain I nodded anyway.

"Alright, you all heard him, now run!" I call before tearing out of the room, taking off down the sewer as quickly as my feel could carry me. "I'm coming Katniss." I whisper, convincing myself that Katniss can hear me.

* * *

><p>When I arrive at the room the man I see sitting there looks vaguely familiar, with his green skin and florescent suit. I know I've seen him before, but I can't remember where or when. Still, the Peace Keepers usher me in and close the door behind me, and once I am alone with the man he stands from his seat, his lips pulled back into a too-wide smile. "Welcome back, Miss Everdeen. Or is it Mrs. Havensbee?" The man asks, and I can't help but wonder who he is, his name is on the tip of my tongue.<p>

"You can just call me Katniss, of course." I say with a smile, trying not to cringe. The man takes a small device out of his pocket and sticks it to the door, and I watch as a dial whirls and the lights turn from red to green. "What is that?" I ask curiously, my head tilted to the side. I've seen such a device before, I'm sure of it. _Carefully he sets me down on my feet and turns towards the door. He locks in swiftly before pulling something out of his pocket. He places the small square device on the door and presses a few buttons. Within the second the object whirls and clicks, the light on it turns from red to green. I look at it in confusion as my husband turns to look at me, a devious smile on his face._

I stumble back as the memory washes over me, a memory of Plutarch I hadn't had only moments before. I look at the green man with fear in my eyes; did that device do that to me? "What is that thing?" I ask, alarm apparent in my voice.

The man squares his shoulders off to me, his eyes bright. "You're remembering things, aren't you?" He asks in a voice like silk. "Splendid, simply splendid!" He exclaims as he claps his hands together. "I knew you'd be too strong for their jacking, spirits like yours aren't so easily broken." I narrow my eyes in confusion.

_Finally, we're alone. _"Finally we're alone…" I repeat, remembering the device Plutarch had put on the door, the device that jammed- I feel as if an ice pick is being jammed into my brain and I double over as a bombardment of memories hit me all at once. I cannot tell which are real and which are not. Some of them are bright and clear, and some of them shimmer when they come to mind. I let out a high whine as the man grabs my arms as moves me to the seat.

"I knew this would happen." He says proudly. "I knew once they stopped giving you the daily injections you'd break through. You're not like the others." He grins like a man who's just accomplished something great, something that has been a long time coming.

"Why?" I whisper against the pain, against the faces dancing in front of my eyes. Dead. Not dead. Dead. Not really dead. Evil. Good. Real. Not real. "Why me? Why not someone else, why me?" It's a question I've been asking for many years, a question I've always had in the back of my head. Why was I the one who had to save everyone, why was I the one who had to be strong all the time? The man runs his fingers through my hair and lets out a low laugh.

"Because it's always been about you." He says_. Oh dear, haven't you learned? It's always about you._ I look up at the man as tears stream down my face, I knew this green skinned man, I'd known him all along.

"Maximus?" He lets out another low laugh.

"it's been quite a while since the ball, Miss Everdeen, but I didn't think you'd forget me in such a short time. I had rather thought our time together was memorable." He winks at me, and I feel a shiver move through my body.

"You're one of them?" I ask as fear grips my heart, but the fear feels hollow, unreal. "You're from District Thirteen?" He shakes his head and laughs once more.

"District Thirteen? Heavens no! I'm Capitol through and through." He says with a flourish, crouching so he's at eyelevel with me in my chair. "That does not, however, mean that I agree with our Government or those who run it." My mind reels, Max had always seemed so perfectly Capitol, attending balls and fund raisers and dinners just like all the other high class socialites he associated with. It only adds to my confusion. Is this another trick, another test?

"I don't believe you." I say as I cover my ears with my hands. "I'm going to scream, I'm going to-"

"If that were to make you feel better, Katniss, by all means do." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "These rooms are built to stop sound from escaping." His smirk disturbs me. "You might want to ask your dear friend Finnick Odair what these rooms are used for." I shake my head, eyes jammed shut.

"Finnick is dead." I say solidly. "District Thirteen killed him. Him and Annie and Johanna." But I know that isn't true. I just watched Johanna die. I saw her bite down on the tablet. I saw her end her own life rather than be caught. A shiver moves through my body; no, not Johanna, her mutt. A cheap imitation of the Victor from District Seven.

"Hardly." Max shrugs. "He and Annie Cresta are safe and sound playing house just outside the Capitol, surely you remember that." I do remember that, I remember having my hair cut off and dyed blonde to hide me from the eyes of the Capitol. I remember Cinna's own hair turning black and his beard coming in to cover his chin. I shake violently, I remember fighting with Cinna and storming out of the safe house, I remember the prick of the needle and the way everything went black.

"Oh my god." I hiss, and Max laughs.

"There it is!" He says as he stands, straightening his suit. He pulls up his sleeves to look at his watch, nodding his head to himself. "And just in time too, your rescuers should be here in just a few moments. I dispatched the final information they needed to find you only hours ago." I look at him in confusion, if he knew where I was, knew how to save me, why did he wait so long? Why didn't he have them save me before they injected me with their poison?

"Why did you wait so long?" I ask when I finally find my voice, my eyes narrowed as I look up at him. "Why did you allow them to torture me when you could have helped them save me weeks ago?" I feel the anger returning to my voice, the passion that makes me feel more like myself.

"Well, my dear, because you weren't ready yet." He says in a gentle voice. "But you're ready now." Without warning there Is a loud bang beneath us that causes the entire building to shudder. "Sadly, it would seem as if Snow is ready as well." I stand from my seat, my eyes alight with anger and hatred.

"He better be." I growl, and the smile that covers Max's face is more than a little unsettling.

* * *

><p>"We're here!" The Architect yells, looking up at a ladder that rises into nothingness.<p>

"Are you sure?" Haymitch calls back, huffing and puffing. He hasn't had to move quite so far or fast in a very long time. I doubt his body was ready for the physical strain he's putting it on. In my mind I make a mental note to keep an eye on him, if he dropped and died of a heart attack Katniss would never forgive me. I'd never forgive myself.

"Definitely." He says with a nod, but as his eyes find us again he looks around quickly, panic coming to rest in his eyes. "Where's Marina?" He asks, and I scan our small group as well. Sure enough the girl who had been with him, I think she had magenta hair, is nowhere to be seen.

"She must have gotten stuck behind one of the doors!" I explain, and this makes the architect's face turn as pale as a person's skin can turn.

"If they catch her-"

"She's got her tablet." I respond. "She won't let them take her alive." Without warning the man rushed forward and grabs my by the front of my shirt, shaking me slightly.

"We have to go back for her!" There's desperation in his voice, and I'm surprised that I feel no empathy towards the man. My mind is so consumed by the task at had I cannot even muster up enough pity for the lost girl.

"We wouldn't be able to get through the doors anyway." I snap back, pushing the man off of my with calculated strength. He stumbles back a few steps, teetering as he tries to keep his footing. "We can't go back for her, there's no way-"

"You're not the only one with a woman you care about!" The man spits as he turns and dashes in the direction from which we'd just come. We all watch him go but make no move to stop him, there's nothing we can say to convince him that Katniss's life is worth more than that of the woman he obviously loves. If I were in his spot I'd do the same thing. With a small chuckle I realize I am basically in the same position.

"Are we all going to stand here with our hands down our pants or are we going to go up there and get our girl?" Haymitch asks as he lumbers towards the ladder, still huffing and puffing.

"I'll go first." I say as I grab the slippery rungs of the ladder. All we need is for Haymitch to go first and lose his grip, sending him crashing into those of us beneath him. "Keep up." I call to them as I begin pulling myself up the ladder, gripping it tight enough to cause my knuckles to turn white as I climb up into the darkness. The higher I climb the harder it is to hold onto the ladder, as if they get more and more coated with filth towards the top. Part of me wonders if they do this so you're more likely to fall from a fatal distance than a distance easily survivable. "We're almost there!" I yell back, and it's true. I can see the top now, see the tiny beams of light coming from a crack in the edge of the door above. Every inch causes my heart to hammer in my chest, pounding so loud I swear everyone in the Capitol must be able to hear it.

When I finally get to the top I hook one arm around the ladder and blindly search the door, looking for a latch or a wheel or anything that could be used to open it. The door, however, is smooth and without flaw. While everything else in the sewers is caked with a thin layer of grime it would seem as if the door itself has been wiped clean. "I can't find a way to open it!" I turn to look at the people below me, though I can see their outlines they're little more than shadows.

"Really wish that architect would have said a thing or two about the door before he bolted to his death." Haymitch grumbles. "Try just pushing it." I step up another rung in the latter and put my shoulder into the door. I push with all the strength I have but it doesn't budge.

"Would the door open from the outside if it was used to punish Avox's?" Portia asks, and I lean back against the ladder. That's the only thing that makes sense; of course it wouldn't open from the inside. With a growl I hit my hand against the door as hard as I can.

"Damnit!" I yell out, and hear my voice a dozen more times as it reverberates off the stone walls.

"There's got to be a way in." I open my mouth to answer Haymitch when the door above begins to click, and I can hear the sounds of the internal locks sliding from their homes.

"Shit!" I mutter as I fumble for my gun. "We've got company!" I bark just as I free my fun from its holster, but it doesn't do me any good. The light that floods from the open door blindes me, I wouldn't know where to point my gun. A feeling of failure washes over me. I was close, so very close, and I failed her. We were all doomed.

* * *

><p>I stand from my chair as another softer bang echoed right below me, turning my eyes to Max in confusion. "It would seem the cavalry has arrived." He says as he motioned me to step aside. I obey silently, to confused and frankly too frightened to do anything else. I back myself up against the far wall as Max pulls the chair to the side of the room and removes the carpet, revealing a square door in the floor about two and a half feet wide. I press myself back, my heart hammering in my chest like the heart of a humming bird. "You might want to turn around, love. This is going to be a little unpleasant for you." I turn towards the wall, resting my forehead against the cold metal.<p>

I listen as the door in the floor opens, and Max lets out a bright chuckle. "It took you long enough to get here." He says, and I hear him moving around, helping people from the hole in the floor. "You!" He calls out. "Don't say a word, don't touch her, even a glance at you could trigger what the Capitol has already put in her mind." There's an uncomfortable shuffle of feet, and I wish I could turn around, but for some reason I find myself blindly trusting Max. He's Capitol, after all. I can trust the Capitol, he'd never do anything to hurt me, not like District Thirteen. I bite the inside of my cheek. No, that's wrong. The Capitol did this to me, not Thirteen. Snow did this to me, not Coin. Coin had sins of her own, but these were not them. "As far as I can tell you two are safe, they didn't program her against you." As soon as the words have left Max's mouth I hear feet rushing towards me, and I take a deep breath.

Rough hands grab me and turn me around, but I keep my eyes jammed shut. Arms wrap around me, and as my face is pressed into a clean linen shirt I can't help but catch the faintest sent of liquor. "Damnit, kid." Haymitch says, his arms in a tight embrace around me. "I thought I'd lost you for a minute there." A wall breaks within me and I throw my arms around my mentor, my face buried in his shirt. He was alive, Thirteen hadn't killed him and neither had the Capitol. Haymitch Abernathy; my drunken, belligerent mentor, was alive. Tears sting my eyes as his hands rub my back, and for a moment I swear I can feel him shuddering.

"I'm okay, Haymitch. I'm okay." I cry, my hands gripping his shirt in tight fists. "I'm okay."

"We need to get out of here." A voice calls, and it takes me a moment to realize who it is. Portia. Her voice brings back no false memories for me, they Capitol must not have known of her involvement. "Before the Peace Keepers come to check on Katniss." Haymitch releases me from his bone crushing hug, and I open my eyes and smile up at him. His hair is still blonde from when we dyed it, but otherwise he's still himself, still the man who saved me from the Arena.

Over Haymitch's shoulder I see him, his green eyes looking at me with all the hope and all the pain in the world. Before I even know what I'm doing I lunge at him, my hands reaching for his throat. Rage fills my every cell, my every fiber, and as soon as my hands come in contact with his neck I squeeze as hard as I can. He's a monster, he's not my Cinna. Thirteen stole Cinna away from him and put a mutt in his place, they created him to kill me, to bring me down, they didn't want me to tell of the horrible things I'd seen in District Thirteen, the horrible things they did to me. When hands grab me around my waist and pull me away from Cinna's mutt I simply cling tighter, pressing my fingers into his windpipe as his hands claw at my arms. With the help of everyone in the room they finally pry my hands away from him and lift me kicking and screaming into the air. "I told you to stay out of sight!" Max says as he pulls off a sash he'd had tied around his waist.

I continue to struggle to get towards Cinna up until the silk slides over my eyes, obscuring my view of him. As soon as I cannot see him the rage ebbs and I fall back against Haymitch, tired and weak. With the rage receding I realize what I'd just done, who I'd just attacked. I'd had no power, no control, as soon as I saw him my body acted on its own accord. I'd forgotten everything I'd just learned, forgotten that none of those memories were real. The only thing that mattered to me in that moment was destroying the creature that wore my lover's face, but he wasn't a creature. He really was Cinna. How had I forgotten that so easily? How had I forgotten that so quickly?

On the other side of the room I can hear Cinna gasping for air, struggling to breathe. He'll probably have nasty bruises on his neck from where my hands wrapped around him, and I feel my heart sink low in my chest. "I'm sorry." I say quietly. "I'm so, so sorry Ci-" I find I cannot make myself say his name. My tongue feels fat and lazy in my mouth, and I simply cannot form the words. "I'm sorry." I repeat again.

"Don't say anything." Max says, but I can't tell if he's talking to me or Cinna. "It will take a while, most likely a long while, but we'll eventually be able to reprogram her, we'll be able to fix her." Haymitch loosens his arms slightly and I feel my feet touch the floor. "But we're out of time right now, we have to get out of here, we have to leave now." Wordlessly I listen as everyone begins their decent down the ladder, and when it's my turn I find that climbing with your eyes covered is no easy feat.

"Just go slow, kid." Haymitch says from his place below me. "Don't get ahead of yourself." As I plunge into the sewers below I feel the cold fingers of dread moving through me. We're nowhere near safe, and this is nowhere near over, but it's a start.

Beneath the dread, beneath the fear, beneath all the things the Capitol has programmed me to feel in the current company and situation I feel something else, something bright and warm and so very very strong. It's a strange thing, a foreign thing, and it takes me a few moments to even realize what it is. I feel hope. For the first time in a long time I feel hope. As I hit the bottom of the ladder a hand slips into mine, a hand that is large and calloused but so very familiar. The Capitol couldn't replicate this, they couldn't steal the feeling of Cinna's skin against mine, of his hand holding mine in the darkness like he has so many times before.

They couldn't take this from me, they couldn't corrupt this. They could replicate his voice and his face but they could not take his touch. I grip his hand back with all the strength I have, holding on to him for dear life, as if he were a life jacket and I was drowning in a storming sea. He grips me back with just as much desperation, and the hope within my heart grows and strengthens, and even though I know we have so very far to go I know we will get there. We will make it, together we will face whatever is to come.

All this time Cinna has been holding on to me, but now I know there is no chance in hell I will ever be letting him go.


End file.
